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KITTY CARSTAIRS 


By 


J." J.-^^BELL 

Author of “ Wee Macgreegor,” " Oh ! Christina ! ” 
“Dancing Days,” etc,, etc. 


NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 
1918 


Printed in Great Britian 


s 


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GHfC 

PxtVV' '■ '^r 

JUI 17 1919 



/ ^ O 



\ 






KITTY CARSTAIRS 


CHAPTEE I 


HEOUGH the still summer dusk the night 



- 1 - mail for London roared down the long 
declivity, clashed into a cutting and forth again, 
screamed, flashed past the deserted little station 
of Dunford, and thundered triumphantly along 
the level towards Kitty Carstairs. 

Leaning on the fence bounding the track, the 
girl watched the tremendous approach with a 
fascination which custom had failed to dull. As 
the monster seemed to leap upon her, her atti- 
tude lost its easy laxness ; she stood erect, her 
white- clad arms leaving the fence, her slim brown 
Angers clutching it. A sensation of oily, steamy 
warmth, a glimpse of two dark human figures 
in a fiery glow — and the great engine was past. 
A whirl of brilUantly-lighted corridors with their 
puppet-like occupants, a couple of darkened 
sleeping-cars, more carriages, a postal van, a 


1 


2 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


guard’s van — and the train was gone. A rush 
of air cooled her delicately-tanned face and dis- 
turbed her unprotected dark hair. Her brown 
eyes gazed after the train, and saw the big net 
swing out from the postal van, and snatch the 
little leather-covered bundle from the iron arm, 
which Sam the postman had moved into position 
a minute earlier. 

With a sigh Kitty took her hands from the 
fence. The thrill was over, the reaction had come. 
For a moment she hesitated. Should she wait 
for Sam, the postman, as she sometimes did, 
and get his honest, cheerful company home ? 
No, she couldn’t be bothered with Sam to-night . 
she would sooner run the risk of meeting some 
one whom she would rather not meet. 

She turned to cross the broad field that stretched 
between her and the main road, and found her- 
self face to face with a young man in light tweeds, 
well cut but getting shabby. He was fairly tall, 
grey-eyed, and inclined to fairness, and his shaven 
countenance was decidedly attractive. 

“ Good evening,” he said, with a grave smile, 
as though not quite sure of his welcome. 

She was startled, but recovered herself as 
quickly as the flush left her cheek. “ Good even- 
ing, Mr. Hayward,” she returned in a tone of 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


3 


politeness softened by kindness. “ I didn’t know 
you were in Dunford.” 

“ I came borne tbis afternoon. May I walk 
a bit of tbe way with you ? — that is if you aren’t; 
” He stopped short. 

Following bis gaze sbe saw tbe figure of a. 
man crossing tbe field in tbeir direction. Sbe 
frowned sbgbtly, saying : “You know your 
people won’t like it, Mr. Hayward.” Tbeu 
hurriedly — “ I don’t want to have to speak to. 
klr. Symington — if that’s he coming.” 

“ Then I’ll stay with you, Kitty, for it’s cer- 
tainly Symington. Ah, he’s turning back. One 
would almost think be bad heard you.” 

“ He couldn’t possibly bear me at that dis- 
tance, unless in bis mind,” sbe said. “ And 
you had better not call me ‘ Kitty,’ Mr. Hay- 
ward,” sbe added. It was more an appeal than 
a command. 

He made no reply, and they walked a little 
way in silence. He, was, first to speak. 

“ So you still go down to watch tbe London 
mail run through.” 

“ Yes. I don’t miss many evenings, but then,, 
you know, it’s the one sensation of this place — 
to me, at any rate.” 

“ Tbe first time I ever saw you was at tba 


4 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


fence there — ^flve years ago, it must have been. 

Your hair was in a pigtail and ” 

“ I was sixteen then, and now I’m — about 
sixty.” She laughed rather drearily. 

“ And the last time I saw you, three months 

ago, you were there ” 

“ And no doubt if you come back in a hundred 
years, Mr. Hayward, you’ll find me there again ! ” 
“ I was glad to see you there to-night, Kitty 
—please don’t forbid me to be friendly. I’m 
feeling particularly friendless at present. Indeed, 
I think you might be kinder than caU me ‘ Mr. 
Hayward.’ What’s wrong with ‘ Cohn ’ ? ” 

She ignored the question, but said kindly 
enough — “ If you are in trouble, I’m sorry, and 
I hope it’s not serious.” 

“ I’ve failed in my final — ^for the second time.” 
“ Oh, Colin ! ” she exclaimed, sympathy putting 
an end to formality. 

“ Thanks, Kitty. That’s the most comforting 
thing I’ve heard since I came home.” 

“ Surely they weren’t hard on you.” Kitty’s 
social position was several steps down from that 
of Colin’s people, but behind her words lurked 
the suspicion, not based entirely on fancy, that 
the Haywards might have been very hard indeed 
on the youngest son and brother. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


5 


“ Oh, I daresay I deserved the dressing-down 
I got,” he returned. “ You see my parents, 
brothers, and sisters take my failure as a sort of 
public affront. My brothers have been brilliant, 
and because two of them became a minister and 
a lawyer without any apparent trouble, my father 
can’t see why I have not become a doctor with 
equal ease and speed.” 

“ But you never wanted to be a doctor.” 

“ That is not the point, Kitty. I was expected 
to become one. Well, I’ve struggled through 
four professionals, but Providence — I’ve no doubt 
about its being Providence — says I’ve gone far 
enough for humanity’s sake.” 

“Do you mean that you are not goiug to try 
again ? ” she asked after a moment. 

“ Exactly ! And that has added to the trouble 
at home. I’m twenty-five, and I told them that 
I could not go on wastiug more years at a thing 
I was plainly not adapted for. They insisted 
that I should go on, and I respectfully but firmly 
refused.” He paused. 

“Well, Cohn ? ” — anxiously. 

“ I don’t want you to imagine,” he said slowly, 
“ that I’m thioking any evil of my people. I 
understand their feelmgs, their pride, and so on, 
well enough ; but they don’t understand me one 


6 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


little bit. WeU, I’m goiag to look for some- 
tbmg to do that doesn’t require a imiversity 
brain. To begin with, I’m going to London ” 

“ London ! Ob ! ” 

“ Still hankering, Kitty ? ” he gently inquired. 

“ Kever mind me. Please tell me more — if 
you want to.” 

“ There isn’t any more. If you are watching 
the train to-morrow night, you may see the last 
of me. I’ll be on the look out, anyway.” 

They had come to the gate leading to the main 
road, and by tacit agreement they halted. 

“ But you haven’t quarrelled with your people, 
Colin ? ” 

He smiled queerly. “ We don’t quarrel in om* 
family — ^more’s the pity. We bottle it up, and 
of course that preserves the resentment. Ko, 
as far as I can see, we shall part politely, but I’m 
perfectly well aware that I needn’t trouble to 
come home again until I can prove that my way 
was the right one.” His tone changed suddenly. 
“ But that’s enough — too much — about my affairs. 
Tell me something about yourself, Kitty.” 

She shook her head. “ I must go ; it’s almost 
, ten, and ” 

“ Let me come as far as the end of the little 
wood.” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


T 


She hesitated and gave in. It was for the 
last time. “ We must walk quickly, then,” she 
said. 

But their steps lagged in the darkness of the 
pines. 

“ Do you still want to get away from Dun- 
ford ? ” he asked her. “ Does the London train 
still call you ? ” 

“ Oh, don’t speak about it ! And please try 
to forget that I ever spoke about it. I’m a silly 
girl no longer.” 

“ I never thought your ideas and ambitions 
silly, Kitty.” 

“ You tried to discourage them,” she said 
quickly. 

“ That was my selfishness. I didn’t want you 
to go away from Dunford. It may not be a very 
lively place, but it’s safe. Quite a number of 
people seem to find moderate happiness in the 
neighbourhood.” 

“ The happiness of turnips ! ” she said fiercely,, 
then laughed sadly. “ Oh, that wasn’t fair of 
me,” she went on. “ But, you know, before I 
came to live with my aunt and imcle here, I 
always looked forward to seeing the world and 
doing something in it, and my father encouraged 
me — but there’s no use in going over that again.. 


8 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


Some day, perhaps, I’ll resign myself to selling 
postage stamps, and sending telegrams and ” 

“ Are your uncle and aunt stUl set against 
your going elsewhere ? Kow that you’re of age 
they could hardly prevent ” 

“ Please say no more, Cohn. When you come 
back rich or famous, or both, you will find me 
here.” 

He could not check the words that rushed from 
his heart. “ Kitty, if I could only hope that I 
might find you here — waiting.” 

She 'did not affect to misunderstand him. 

“ You don’t really mean that,” she said quietly. 
“ We are too good friends for that sort of thing. 
Yes, I believe we are good friends, although our 
friendship has not all been open and straight- 
forward; But I’m glad we’ve had it, Colin, and 
I don’t want to be , sorry afterwards.” 

“ I never supposed you could love me,” he said 
sadly, “ but since you allow the friendship, will 
you let me write to you ? You’re the only friend 
I feel I want to write to while I’m trying to prove 
that my way is the right one.” 

She considered before she said, “ I’d hke to 
hear from you, but you must not write. It will 
only make trouble. And now I must say good- 
bye and — ^good luck.” She put out her hand. 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


He held it, striving with himself. Then he 
said a little unsteadily, “ I think you must know 
that I have cared for you all along, and because 
I may never see you again, will you — will you 
let me kiss you — once ? ” 

“ But, Colin, you understand that I — I don’t 
love you ? ” 

“ Too well ! ” 

She could just see that his face was white. 
She made an almost imperceptible movement, 
and it was not of refusal. 

A moment later he was gone. 

When the sound of his footsteps had ceased, 
Kitty stirred. 

“ Am I crying ? ” she said to herself, and 
wiped her eyes. “ Poor Colin, poor boy ! I 
wonder if he will write, after all.” She started 
for home. “ And I thought I had sort of got 
over the London longing,” she sighed. 


CHAPTEE II 


B y taking the path, through the wood she had 
cut off a wide curve of the main road. 
She was nearly home. Already the few remain- 
ing lights of the village bade her welcome back 
to dulness. 

“ Five years ! ” she said to herself, “ and I 
may live in it for fifty more.” 

Kitty Oarstairs scarcely remembered her 
mother. She had been brought — or allowed to 
bring herself up — by her father, a Glasgow jour- 
nalist of brilliant parts and erratic methods, a 
wretched manager of his worldly affairs, a delight- 
ful guest, an entertainmg host, and altogether 
a very lovable fellow. Kitty adored him, and 
ignored his weaknesses and eccentricities. When 
he died after a long illness, she wished she might 
follow him quickly. He left a little money, and 
just enough debts to eat it up, five MSS. of novels, 
two coUeetions of travel sketches, and a play — 
all ia a more or less unfinished state — and a letter 
10 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


11 


to Kitty’s only relatives, the brother and sister 
of his dead wife. 

Eatty never saw the contents of that letter ; 
aU she knew was that it seemed to procure her 
a home with John Corrie and his sister in the 
village of Dunford. 

For many years John Corrie had been post- 
master as well as proprietor of a flourishing 
general store, the only shop of importance in the 
place. A canny man and a far-sighted was John 
Corrie, grasping but not exactly mean. If the 
villagers did not love him, they respected his 
success. He had “ got on ” marvellously. Apart 
from the store he owned a mill, bought for an 
old song from the trustee of a bankrupt, and a 
coal yard taken over from an unlucky merchant 
and mortgagee. Also he had invested savings 
in land and houses. For some years, also, he 
had indulged in more speculative transactions. 
He was a tall, gaunt man with small, pale blue 
eyes, a long melancholy nose, a tight mouth, 
and high prominent cheek-bones over scanty 
grizzling whiskers, which ran into a short untidy 
beard. His head was quite bald. He was an 
abstainer, and a regular attender at public wor- 
ship, though not an office-bearer of the church. 

His sister Eachel assisted him capably in 


12 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


the store. She may have been a good-looking 
maiden ; now she was a scraggy, drear- visaged 
creature with a curiously suspicious manner 
and a craze for doing everythmg precisely as her 
mother had done it. She seemed to object to 
youth discovering or making use of a new method. 
She was mean in some ways, but, perhaps for lack 
of courage, not so grasping as her brother. To 
him she was devoted. 

Kitty attended to the post-office which served 
a district sparsely populated, but of considerable 
extent. She had never received a penny for this. 
On the other hand her relations did not grudge 
her in board, lodging and clothing ; and twice 
a year they gave her a pound to spend as she 
hked. She divided the money on “ pretty 
things ” and books. Books, by the way, had 
initiated the friendship between her and Colin 
Hayward. He had lent her many, but only 
one at a time, for the thing had to be done 
secretly ; but he, at least, preferred “ one at a 
time,” since it meant frequent meetings during 
his holidays. 

As Kitty neared the cottage, which was ancient 
looking without but fairly modern within, and 
which was connected with the store and post- 
office, she was suddenly informed by her eyes 


r 


KITTY CAESTAIES 13 

that the room on the right of the door was illnmin- 
ated. Unless on a Simday night, it was a rare 
thing to see a light in the parlour. The Conies 
received few visitors, with the exception of Alee 
Symington, the owner of White Farm, and a 
familiar guest like him was expected to feel at 
home in the kitchen. 

The girl was imcertain what to do. She re- 
jected the temptation to steal upstairs to bed ; 
she was not going to let them think she was 
afraid of them at this time of day ! Well, there 
was nothing for it but to go into the kitchen and 
wait. Noiselessly she entered and seated herself 
in a wicker chan. 

A moment later the silence in the opposite 
room was broken, and by her aunt’s voice raised 
to an xmusual pitch. 

“ The more I think on it, John Corrie, the more 
I see what a fool ye’ve been. To take fifty pound 
for a thing that’s come worth twenty thousand 
— that’ll maybe yet be worth thirty, forty, ay 
fifty thousand ” 

“ Hold yom tongue, woman ! ” - Kitty scarcely 
recognized her uncle’s voice. “ How could I, 
or anybody, ha’ foreseen that the shares would 
go up ? Five year ago the broker in Glasgow 
told us they were rubbish. Six months ago ye 


B 


14 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


agreed I had done well to get fifty pound for 
them from Symington ” 

“ Oh, he knew what he was doing — ^he knew, 
though you didn’t ! ” 

“ I don’t believe he did. He’s been daft about 
gold mines for years. He’d ha’ been ruined by 
now if his father hadna died and left him White 
Farm. I tell ye, Eachel, he bought the five 
thousand shares off me with his eyes shut, 
just for a speculation. Don’t talk ! Ye know 
well ye were as sick-tired as I was o’ seeing the 
certificates lying in the safe, wi’ never a ha’penny 
o’ interest to ” 

“ Ko, no, John, we’ve been cheated — don’t 
care what ye say — and it’s maybe a judgment 
on us ” 

“ That’s enough ! Ye mun make the best o’ 
a bad job. And it’ll maybe no be so bad in the 
end.” Corrie let out a laugh. “ Ye’U no com- 
plain if we get half o’ whatever he gets for the 
shares, when he sells them.” 

“ Oh, dinna begin on^that again. He’ll never 
pay up.” 

“ Ay, he’ll pay up. I’ve got his bond in my 
pocket ! ” 

“ Ye didna tell me ! How did ye manage it ? ” 

Oorrie replied, but he tad lowered his voice 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


15 


and only a murmur reached Kitty’s ears. She 
was not interested in her uncle’s affairs generally, 
but it was something new to hear of his having 
been “ done,” for “ done ” was the word that 
came into her mind the moment she understood 
Symington’s part in the business. Eavesdrop- 
ping, however, was not one of her weaknesses, and 
she rose with the intention of making known her 
presence in the house. 

Just then her aunt’s voice rose in a sort of 
screech of incredulity — 

“ But she’ll never consent ! ” 

“ We’ll see about that. Leave it to me.” 

Once more the voices became indistinct. In 
the kitchen doorway Kitty stopped short. Whom 
were they talking about now ? Herself ? When 
had her consent ever been asked for anything ? 
For a few moments she hesitated, tempted to 
lay her ear against the parlour door. Then 
throwing up her head, she stepped softly along 
the passage and shut the front door with a bang. 

As she turned from it the parlour door was 
snatched open, and her uncle’s face peered out. 
His brow was glistening and his eyes held gleams 
of excitement ; but his voice was curiously mild. 

“ Come in here for a minute, Kitty,” he said. 

She followed him into the room, wondering. 


16 


KITTY CAESTAIBS 


TMs was not the customary reception on her 
return from seeing the London mail go by, and 
she was later to-night than ever she had been. 
Her aunt, sitting with folded hands on one side 
of the fern-filled hearth, gave her an instant’s 
glance, which conveyed nothing, and resumed 
staring at the folded, toil-worn hands in her lap. 
Her uncle took his chair on the other side, saying — 

“ Sit down. Ye’re late, but maybe ye’ve a 
good reason for that.” It may have been a smile 
that distorted, for a moment, his thin lips. 

Kitty drew a chair from the table, seated her- 
self and waited. She had learned long ago never 
to open a conversation with these two. 

Mr. Corrie rubbed his hairy jaw between finger 
and thumb, cleared his throat, and said, almost 
pleasantly — “ Well, did he meet ye ? ” 

It was an unexpected question, and she could 
not answer immediately. 

He helped her by adding, “Ye needna be shy. 
Mr. Symington left here half-an-hour back to 
look for ye.” 

“ Ko,” she answered, “ he didn’t meet me.” 
Strange that her uncle should speak of the man 
as “ Mr.” 

“ Eh ? Ko.” She repeated. “ He didn’t 
meet me.” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


17 


“ That’s queer.” Uncle and aunt exchanged 
glances, and the latter asked. “ Where were ye 
to-night ? ” 

“ At the railway.” 

“ And ye didn’t see Mr. Symington ? ” 

“ Yes. I saw him — at a distance.” 

There was a pause before Mr. Corrie spoke with 
less smoothness than previously. 

“ Did ye keep away from him I ” 

“ Not more than usual.” 

“ I want a plain answer.” 

“ Ko.” 

“ Then — who was wi’ ye at the time ? ” 

Kitty flushed and went pale. “ Mr. Cohn 
Hayward.” 

“ What ? That useless waster ! Were ye not 
forbidden to ha’ any acquaintance ” 

“ And he’s failed again in his examinations ! ” 
cried Miss Corrie. “It’s the talk o’ the place.” 

“ What ha’ ye to say for yourself ? ” roared 
her brother. 

“Nothing,” came the quiet answer; “no- 
thing that would satisfy you or Aunt Eachel. I 
had no intention of meeting Mr. Hayward to- 
night, but when I did meet him I was not going 
to pretend I did not know him because he had 
failed in an examination. And before long I 


18 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


was very glad I had met him, for his presence kept 
away Mr. Symington. Kow, if you don’t mind, 
I’ll go to hed ” 

A warning glance from his sister caused M!r. 
Corrie to strive for self-control. 

“ Sit stni,” he said shortly. “ Ye know per- 
fectly well it’s no the thing for you to be walking 
wi’ one o’ the Haywards. Mvs. Hayward, as 
ye’re maybe not unaware, complained about it 
last year ” 

“ That’U do, John,” interposed Miss Corrie, 
observing the girl’s burning cheeks. “ We’re 
as good as the Haywards any day, but we’d best 
forget that affau’. How that Kitty’s heard about 
it, she’ll know what to do m future.” 

Kitty mastered the quiver of her pretty mouth, 
and with a quick movement brushed the tears from 
her dark eyes, and looked straight at her uncle. 

“ Please tell me at once,” she said, “ what Mr. 
Symington wanted with me.” 

The directness of the question had a disconcert- 
ing effect on Mr. Corrie. 

“ Maybe you cordd guess,” he mumbled at last. 

Kitty ignored the invitation. 

“ Ye’d best tell her, Eachel,” said Mr. Corrie. 

“ Mr. Symington is anxious to marry ye,” the 
woman said in little more than a whisper. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


19 


Without haste Kitty got up and moved to the 
door. Turning there, she faced them both. Her- 
voice was clear and steady — 

“ I would not marry IVIr. Symington for — for 
twenty thousand pounds.” 

The man sprang to his feet, but she was gone, 
the door closed behind her. 

“ Almighty ! ” he gasped, sinking back into, 
his chair. 

“ What’s wrong wi’ ye ? ” cried his sister. “ J 
warned ye she would never consent.” 

“ She’ll consept yet ! ” he said, with a sup- 
pressed oath. “ But — but what made her name 
twenty thousand pounds ? ” 

:|c 4c 4: He 

It was nearly an hour later when Cohn reached 
his father’s house. Hayward Senior was not 
precisely a heartless man, but he was totaUy 
without imagination. 

Seated — one dares to say “ posed ” — at an 
extremely orderly writing-table in his fine old 
hbrary — he received his youngest son with a 
stern look and motioned him to be seated. He 
was in evening dress, and you would never have 
taken him for anything but a gentleman — in the 
narrow sense of the word. 


20 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ You are late,” he said presently. “ Where 
have you been ? ” 

“ Walking about. It’s a lovely night.” 

Mr. Hayward smiled bitterly. “ Were you 
alone ? ” 

“ Most of the time.” Colin looked at his 
father. “ I met Miss Carstairs, and we talked 
for a little while.” 

“ Who on earth is Miss Carstairs ? ” Mr. 
Hayward did not wait for an answer to his ironic 
question. “ You mean the young woman in the 
local post-office, I presume ; the young woman, 
in fact, with whom your wretched philander- 
ings ” 

“ That’s enough, father ! ” The young man 
rose quickly. “ Let us leave Miss Carstairs out 
of ” 

“ Well, I trust you have informed her as to 
your income and prospects.” 

“ Why should I do that ? ” 

“ Usual thing in the circumstances — is it 
not ? ” 

“ I don’t understand you. What circum- 
stances ? ” 

“ Tut ! ” exclaimed MQr. Hayward, “ don’t you 
intend to marry the grocer’s daughter — beg her 
pardon — niece f ” ^ 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


21 


Colin barely restrained the fury that paled 
his face. “ You may take my word for it,” he 
said, “ that IVIiss Carstaii’s certainly does not 
intend to marry me.” 

“ EeaUy ! She must be a generous young 
person to give her kisses for nothing.” 

There was an ugly silence. The son took a step 
forward, his hands clenched at his sides. 

“ Since when,” he asked at length, “ have you 
been employing a private detective ? ” 

A dull flush overran the older man’s counten- 
ance. “ Be careful ! The information was not 
sought by me.” 

“ Who gave it ? ” 

“ You are welcome to guess.” He flicked a 
folded note across the table. It was addressed 
in pencil to “ T. H. Hayward, Esq.,” marked 
“ Urgent,” had evidently been torn from a note- 
book, and had been sealed with a scrap of stamp 
paper. “ The servant found it under the hall 
door, about an hour ago. That’s all I can tell 
you.” 

Cohn opened it, and his face burned as he 
read — 

“ A friend advises you that your youngest son 
and the post-office girl were kissing in the wood 
to-night.” 


22 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ Well,” said Mr. Hayward, “ do you know the 
writing ? ” 

His son made a gesture of negation. “ May I 
keep this ? ” he managed to say presently. 

“ Ko,” said the other, holding out his hand 
for the paper. “ I will keep it — and God help 
the person who wrote it, when I find him or 
her ! ” Kext moment he resumed his cold man- 
ner and incisive tone. “ All that, however, does 
not exonerate you, though 1 am not going to dwell 
on the unsavoury subject of your disgrace 

“ There is no disgrace ! ” hotly cried Colin. 

His father snuled wearily. “ Apparently we 
shall not agree on the meaning of the word. Kow 
may I ask : what are you going to do ? ” 

“ As I told you, I am going to London,” rephed 
Cohn, holding himself in. 

“ And then ? ” 

“ I don’t know yet.” 

“ Very well.” Mr. Hayward opened a drawer 
and took out a small bundle of notes. He threw 
them on to the table, saying, “ A hundred pounds. 
Do as you like, but don’t ask for more — for your 
own sake.” 

“ Father,” cried CoUn, his anger lost in bitter 
humiliation. “ I swear I did my best at college, 
only I wasn’t fitted for ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


23 . 


“ We have already discussed that. By the 
way, I would suggest that you make it convenient 
to leave here early in the morning instead of to- 
morrow night, and so spare, in some measure, the 
feeUngs of your mother and sisters ” 

“ You are heartless ! I will leave the house 
now ! ” 

“ Please no, unless you desire to start a scandal 
among the servants, and another in the village.” 

“ Oh, you are worse than heartless ; you are 
unjust. . . . But I wiU wait till the morning. 
Good-bye.” Colin turned and moved towards 
the door. 

“ Stay ! You have forgotten your money.” 

Without looking back Colin went out. 

When Mr. Hayward went to bed, half-an-hour 
later, he left — deliberately — the notes lying on 
his writing-table. 

At 6.30 a.m. Cohn entered a closed carriage, 
and with his modest baggage was driven to the 
station. There had been no farewells, and on 
the whole he did not regret their absence, for 
he knew they would have been highly seasoned 
with reproaches and unwelcome advice. He took 
a ticket for Glasgow. 

Having heard the carriage drive away, Mr. 
Hayward in his dressing gown came down tu 


24 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


the library. Where the notes had been he found 
a scrap of paper — 

I.O.U. 

One hundred pounds. 

' 0. H. Hayward. 

He smiled sardonically, muttering, “ I thought 
he would chmb down,” and put the I.O.IJ. beside 
the anonymous note of last night, in his safe. 


CHAPTEE III 


HE morning mail for Dunford was usually 



A in the post-office by a quarter to seven. 
It was conveyed from the train by Sam, the post- 
man, a little stout person with a grey miUtary 
moustache, whose age, according to his own 
statement, was “ forty-nine and a bit.” It had 
been that for a good many years. With Sam’s 
assistance Kitty was wont to sort the letters, 
and the two had become staunch friends, though 
no very serious confidences had been exchanged. 

In the midst of the sorting this morning Sam 
suddenly remarked that Mr. Cohn Hayward had 
not made a long stay with his people. 

“ I seen him at the station,” he continued. 
“ I couldna say where he was bound for, but he 
had a pickle luggage, and he wasna looking extra 
cheery. Been getting lectured for no passing 
his examination, I suppose. Poor lad, I’m vexed 
for him. He never got on with his folk, and he’s 


25 


26 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


the only real gentleman in the family. They’re 
a cauld-hearted stuck-up lot. Him an’ me used 
often to gang fishing — that was afore your time, 
Miss — and a kinder, hUther chap I never hope 
to meet. Well, well, if he’s the black sheep, the 
others ha’ used a queer lot o’ whitewash.” 

Kitty felt that she was expected to say some- 
thing, but just then Sam came on an address that 
required deciphering, and the subject dropped, 
not a little to her relief. 

When the sorting was finished, Sam set out 
on his round, and she made her way to the cottage 
for breakfast. Her uncle was already at table 
looking more than usually morose ; her aimt was 
muttering to something on the stove — a habit 
of hers when annoyed. Kitty perceived that 
she was stiU in disgrace, and her heart sank. 
After all, those two people constituted her whole 
kin, and she would have pleased them had it 
been possible, if only for the sake of peace and 
cheerfulness. More, she would have loved them 
had they given her the slightest encouragement. 

Mr. Corrie took no notice of his niece as she 
approached her accustomed seat. To his sister 
he growled over his shoulder — 

“ The paper’s late again ! I’ve a good mind 
to start selling newspapers myself. That woman 


KITTY CAESTAIRS 


27 


\ 

seems to th in k she can play wi’ her customers 
just because she’s a widow.” 

“ I’ll speak to her,” said Miss Corrie, coming 
over with a dish of bacon. 

“ Tell her she had best bring the paper here 
— or send it — within five minutes o’ the train’s 
arrival. D’ye hear ? ” 

“ Ay, I hear ye, John. Take yer breakfast 
now, and ha’ patience for the paper.” 

The meal was almost over when Mr. Corrie 
spoke again — this time to his niece. 

“ Well, ha’ ye thought over what I said to ye 
last night ? ” he abruptly demanded. 

Kitty was not unprepared for the question, 
and she answered calmly enough that she had 
not further considered the matter — which was 
not, perhaps, quite accurate — ^because she had 
assumed that it was closed. 

“ Then ye’d better think it over now, for Mr. 
Symington’s pretty sure to come again to-night.” 

“ If he comes, I can only tell him what I told 
you — of course, I’ll do it poUtely. . . . Uncle 
John, why are you so anxious for me to marry 
that man ? Tell me straight — do you and Aunt 
Rachel want to get rid of me ? ” 

Corrie hesitated. He dared not say, as he was 
tempted to say, that he could not afford to give 


28 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


her a home any longer, because, for one thing, 
the girl was as well aware as himself that he 
kept the allowance made by the post-office for 
her services as assistant — an assistant, by the 
way, who did practically all the work, j 

“ Kot so long ago you thought very little of 
Mr. Symington,” she pursued, “ and I’ve often 
heard Aunt Eachel call him anything but a nice 
man. Besides, he must be nearly forty.” ; 
I That’s enough,” said Come sharply. “ Yom 
aunt and me know him' better than we used to. 
We want you to marry him because we see ’twould 
be a good thing for you. Same time, he’s come 
into a heap of money.” 

“ Ay,” said Miss Corrie, “ he has that ! He’s 
talking o’ giving up the farm and setting up 
house in the city — Glasgow, maybe. That would 
suit ye fine, Kitty.” 

“ I’m sorry I can’t do what you want,” the 
girl said slowly. “ I’d rather be dead than 

married to him. He ” 

“ Don’t talk trash ! ” exclaimed Corrie, lower- 
ing upon her. “ Ye’U give him ‘ ay ’ to-night 
or it’ll be the worse for ye. Don’t you try to 
cross me, ye daughter o’ a beggar ! ” 

“ John ! ” squealed his sister. 

Kitty was on her feet, her beautiful eyes blaz- 


KITTY CAKSTAIES 


29 


ing from her white face. “ How dare you ? ” she 
cried, shaking with furious indignation, “ how 
dare you speak so of my father, a man with a 
great, noble mind ? — you, you miserable thing, 
with not an idea in yom’ head, not a thought in 
your heart, but money, money, money ! My 
father owes you nothing — nothing, do you hear ? 
His daughter has earned every penny she has cost 
you.” 

John Corrie, unused to contradiction, much 
less to retahation, rose, grey of countenance, 
shaking with passion. Probably he was not 
aware that he had the bread knife in his hand, 
but his sister grabbed his wrist. 

“ Listen to me,” he began in a thick voice. 

“ I won’t ! You are not sane,” said Kitty, 
“ or you would never have spoken such words 
about my father, your own sister’s husband — 
not that I’ll ever forgive them or you. But you 
are mad — mad with greed ! I tell you, once and 
for all, I’m not for sale to Mr. Symington ! ” 

He sat down with a crash, his mouth gaping. 

“ Go, go ! ” whispered Miss Corrie, motioning 
frantically with her free hand. “ It’s eight 
o’clock — time the office was open.” 

Kitty turned and went. She was glad to go,, 
for her courage was already burned out. 

c 


30 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Miss Corrie shook her brother. “ Ye fool, ye 
forsaken fool ! ” she sputtered. “ That temper 
o’ yours has ruined everything. Ye’U never get 
her to marry him now.” 

He turned on her savagely. “ What ha’ ye 
told her ? ” 

“ Me ? Kever a word.” 

“ Then what did she mean by saying she wasna 
for sale ? . . . God ! she must ha’ heard ” 

“ Guessed maybe. Why did ye tell her the 
man had come into a heap o’ money ? I warned 
ye to go canny.” 

He flung her from him and got up. “ Let her 
guess what she likes, think what she likes, do 
what she likes — ^but she’s no going to beat me. 
I’ll find a way ! I’ll manage her yet ! Ten 
thousand — twenty — maybe twenty-five thousand 
pound — no, by heavens, I’m not to be done out 
o’ that by a stubborn lass.” 

“ Let be, John. Ye ha’ siUer enough. Ye 
dinna spend a trifle o’ your income. Ye’ll rue 
the day that ye cheated your sister’s daughter, 
for that’s what it comes to.” 

“ Hold your silly tongue, woman. I’ve cheated 
nobody but myself.” 

She shook her head, saying, “ I would like to 
read Hugh Oarstairs’ letter again.” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


31 


“ Ye’re welcome — anotlier time. There’s the 
paper at last.” He almost ran to the front 
door. 

He returned, opening the paper at the financial 
page. Seating himself, he cleared a space on the 
table and laid it thereon. Then his thick fore- 
finger began to move down one of the columns 
as though it was feeling for something. At last 
it stopped, and he gazed awhile. . ; . His breath 
went in with a hiss. “ Zeniths ! ” he muttered. 

His sister was staring over his shoulder, but 
her sight was indifferent. “ What is it ? ” she 
gasped. “ What about the Zeniths ? ” 

In a hushed voice he replied, “They rose seven- 
and-sixpence yesterday. They’re now worth 
niuety shillings a share. That means £22,500 
for the five thousand. . . . That would be £11,260 
for me — us. ... I wonder if Symington shouldna 
sell now. Wait till I see if it says anything about 
them here.” He turned to some paragraphs, 
headed “ Mining Notes.” . . . “ Ay, here it is ! 
Oh, listen, Eachel ! It says they’ll likely go to 
eight pound ! Almighty ! We munna let him 
seU ! ” 

She sighed and said, “ It’s time the shop was 
open.” 

“ Ay, so it is — but wait a minute.” 


32 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Witii another headshake she began to clear 
the table. 

He rose suddenly. “ There’s the keys,” he 
said, throwing them on to the table. “ Ye can 
open the shop. I’m going up to White Farm.” 


CHAPTER IV 


T the risk of offending a stray customer 



Kitty delayed opening the post-office xmtil 
her outraged spirit had become a little calmer — 
only a little, for the mingled passions so brutally 
aroused would subside only through sheer exhaus- 
tion. She had no one to confide in, no one to 
count on for sympathy and comfort. She had 
thought she had grown used to being alone in 
the world, but she had never experienced loneli- 
ness like this. Her bosom heaved, but her eyes 
remained dry. 

The sounds of her aunt opening the shop next 
door roused her from a sort of stupor. Taking 
the big key, she proceeded to open the office for 
the 'day’s business. There was some book-keep- 
ing to be done, also a schedule or two to fill up, 
but her hand shook so that she could scarcely 
write. And suddenly she realized that she was 
afraid, desperately afraid. She was so wholly 


33 


34 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


dependent on that man next door ; her very 
existence was in his hands ; she was, to all intents 
and purposes, his prisoner. 

A few pounds would have made all the differ- 
ence now. She possessed less than two shillings^ 
There was no escape. 

She unlocked the safe, and transferred part 
of its contents, money, stamps, and so forth, to 
their proper drawers. The money gave her a 
sickish feeling ; so much of it — the price of her 
salvation over and over again — ^her freedom in a 
fraction of it. . . . Violently she shut the drawer 
and turned to the desk. 

A child came in with a letter and a penny, and, 
a little later, a woman Avith a parcel. Then there 
was a longish blank till an elderly man entered. 
He made a brief remark on the weather and pro- 
ceeded to fill up a money order request-form. 
Presently he pushed it across the counter along 
with the money, £27, in three five-pound and twelve 
one-pound notes, also an eightpence to pay the 
charge. Laying the money on the desk, she 
collected her wits and carefully wrote out the 
order. Her sleeve brushed the notes separate 
without, her noticing. 

The man wanted to know when a letter would 
be delivered in a certain outlying place in Ireland, 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


35 


and she took the “ Post-office guide ” to the 
counter and found him the information con- 
tained therein. He went out, leaving the door 
open. The brisk cuirent of morning air was wel- 
come. Before she could turn from the counter 
a girl came in* with a few shillings for her savings 
account. . . . 

When the girl had gone Kitty put her hands 
to her head, which was now throbbing painfuUy. 
Some little time elapsed before she returned to 
the desk. Observing the notes, she gathered 
them up and placed them in the proper drawer 
for money order and postal order transactions. 
She locked the drawer with a key on the bunch 
hanging from her belt. Often this drawer con- 
tained fairly large sums. Once more she attacked 
her clerical work. 

Somehow the morning passed. At noon she 
was relieved for half an hour, by her uncle. He 
peered about, but made no remark, and without 
even glancing at him she passed through the short 
passage leading to the shop and thence to the 
cottage. Her dinner was waiting on the table. 
Miss Corrie, who had put it there, had gone back 
to the shop ; she dined with her brother later. 

Kitty could not eat. After a while she went 
up to her room and lay down for ten minutes. 


36 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


The pity was that she did not spend the whole 
of her half-hour upstairs. 

The first thing Corrie did on being left to him- 
self, was to snatch from the floor, under the 
shadow of the desk, a five-pound note. Holding 
it stretched between his hands, he stood trans- 
fixed, while the clock ticked nearly a hundred 
seconds. • Then his hands began to shake and 
sweat appeared on his face. . . . Two minutes 
later he left the office to take care of itself, going 
out by the public way. Keeping close to the wall 
he passed round behind the office and shop and 
into the yard at the back of the house. The 
place was not overlooked by neighbours, but he 
glanced keenly about him before he turned his 
gaze upwards. Above the ivy an attic window 
was wide open. 

He tiptoed to an out-house ; he tiptoed back 
with a ladder. He placed the ladder in position 
and climbed a few bars, halted, and made a show 
of doing something to the ivy. Aseending further, 
he repeated the performance. At last he was at 
the window. For a few seconds he remained 
with his body bent and stretched into the room, 
then he withdrew, descended the ladder, replaced 
it in the out-house, and returned to the office. 

At 12.30 his niece appeared. He moved towards 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


37 


the shop, seemed to change his mind, and came 
back. He cleared his throat, and said — 

“ I’ll cheek the cash.” 

Hitherto the formality had always taken place 
after business hours, but the girl, too sick at 
heart to be surprised at anything, without hesit- 
ation 6r remark handed him her keys. 

Before long Jliss Corrie called him to dinner. 

“ It’ll ha’ to wait,” he returned, apparently 
immersed in his task. 

At the end of twenty minutes he spoke. 

“ Here ! ” 

She came over. “ Anything wrong ? ” she 
asked wearily. 

He pointed to the open drawer. “ Ye’re short ! ” 

“ Nonsense ! Twenty-seven pounds — that’s 
been the only money order business to-day.” 

“AVell, there’s only twenty-two.” 

“ You’ve made a mistake,” she said, with 
reviving alertness. “ Three fives and twelve 
singles.” 

“ Was that how Torrance gave ye the money ? 
Be very sure now ! — Three fives and twelve 
singles ? Eh ? ” 

“ I’m perfectly sure,” she returned impatiently. 
“ The notes must have stuck. How much do you 
make me short ? ” 


38 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ Count for yourself.” 

She took them out and laid them on the counter. 
There was a short silence broken only by the 
rustle of the paper and the ticking of the clock. 

Suddenly she raised her head and looked him 
straight in the eyes, without a word. 

He stood her gaze for a brief space, then turned 
it to the notes. His fist banged the counter. 

“ Five pound short — a five-pound note — where 
is it ? ” 

Still she stared at him silent. 

“ Can ye no answer ? ” he snarled at last. 

She answered with an odd, slow smile. It 
maddened him. He strode across to the passage 
and shouted for his sister. 

Miss Corrie came at once. “ What’s the mat- 
ter, John ? Mind, the lad’s in the shop.” 

“ Send him to his dinner.” 

Eatty spoke. “ Ko. I want a witness.” 

“ A witness ! ” screeched the woman. “ What 
for ? ” 

Corrie pushed her aside, and bawled — 

“ Peter, ye can go for your dinner now.” He 
waited until he heard a door open and close, then 
wheeled and said to his sister — “ She’s five pound 
short.” 

Miss Corrie threw up her hands. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


39 


“ Yes,” said Kitty quietly, “ I’m five pounds 
short.” 

The woman was about to speak, but her 
brother motioned her to hold her tongue. 

“ I want to know where that five-pound note 
is. . . . Do ye hear me, girl ? ” 

She paid not the slightest attention. 

“ See here, Eachel,” he said, somewhat wildly, 
“ she admits she got twenty-seven pound from 
Torrance this morning. She had the key o’ the 
drawer all the time I was here my lone. As you 
and the boy can swear I never passed to the house. 
When I checked the cash in her presence, I found 
her five pound short. . . . And she won’t say 
what’s become o’ it.” 

“ Tell him,” cried Miss Corrie. “ Speak ! ” 

“ WEat’s the use ? ” said the girl, and there was 
a pause. 

“ Were ye up the stair at your dinner-time ? ” 
he demanded. 

No answer. 

“ Ay ; I heard her,” said her aunt. 

“ Then it’s my duty to — to make a search,” he 
said in a thick voice. 

“ Get the police,” said Kitty. “ They’re 
honest.” 

He all but lost control then. “ Up to your 


40 


KITTY OAESTAIRS 


room ! ” he roared. “ Rachel, you maun come 
likewise.” 

Kitty turned and led the way. She felt that 
this was only the beginning of the ghastly farce, 
nothing could possibly be found in her room 
unless her uncle contrived to put it there while 
he was pretending to search, and she would 
see to it that he was not allowed to manage 
that ! 

“ If it’s no in there,” said Corrie, as they 
reached the small landing, “ your aunt’ll ha’ to 
search your person. Go inside the two o’ ye. 
I’ll bide here. Rachel, you make search.” 

Kitty began to feel puzzled in a dull, dreary 
fashion. Her uncle could play no tricks from 
where he stood. Why should he make such a 
long business of the matter ? He had failed to 
terrify her, and — 

“ Where’ll I search ? ” wailed Miss Corrie. 

“ Every place. It’s got to be foimd,” replied 
her brother. “It’s Government money.” 

“ It’ll take a long, long time. Would ye no 
give her another chance to — to speak ? ” 

“ She’s had her chance. Hurry up ! ” 

It was no doubt natural that Miss Corrie should 
start with the chest of drawers that served also 
for a dressing table, placed at an angle with the 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


41 


"windo'w and near it. She drew ont the right-hand 
top drawer. 

“ Turn it out on the floor,” he ordered. 

Kitty sat doAvn on the bed and apathetically 
watched the scattering of her poor little fineries, 
gloves, ribbons, fancy buttons, and so on. 

“ It’s no’ there, anyway,” remarked Eachel, 
rising at last. 

She opened the neighbour drawer, and Kitty 
winced, for it held her father’s manuscripts. 

“ Oh ! ” gasped Eachel, and stood petrified. 

“ Hurry up ! ” called her brother, and she 
started. 

“ It — it’s here,” she whispered, and held it up. 

Corrie strode in, snatched it and held it close 
to his niece’s face. 

Kitty was white as death now. What dumb 
innocence, what loud defence, could stand against 
this ? 

Her aimt slunk from the room. 

“ WeU,” said Corrie at last in a lowered voice, 
“ I’ll let ye go free now ; I’ll let ye go free till 
this time to-morrow — no, till ten o’clock to- 
morrow night. But if ye want to go free after 
that, ye know the way — the only way. Kow ye 
can think over it. I’ll mind the office myself.” 

With that he went out. 


42 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Had Kitty held a weapon of any sort then, she 
would certainly have tried to kill him. • 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

In the evening her aunt brought her some 
tea, set it down, and retired without a word. ; 
But no restraint was put on her movements. . 
Eestraint was imnecessary. Where could she go, 
penniless ? Later, when she heard Symington’s 
voice in the kitchen, she stole downstairs and out ' 
of doors. 

In the dusk, an hour afterwards, she stood at 
her old place, waiting the roaring approach, the 
thundering dash past, of the London mail. Cohn j 
Hayward would not be on board, she told her- | 
self, and wondered vaguely why, after all, he had 
left early in the morning. And now he would 
be in London, and things there would already be 
making him forget her. She did not love him 
as she judged a maid should love a man — ^but 
oh ! how gladly she would have yielded now to 
his tender arms and his kind voice. . . . 

The train was coming — ^it was nearly on her. 
Something white fluttered from a window. But 
the signal could not be for her !— and yet with her 
heart in her eyes she gazed. And just for a tick 
of time she had a ghmpse of Colin’s face. It was 
all over. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


43 


She laid her arms on the fence, and bowed her 
face on them, and wept as never she had wept 
in all her one-and-twenty years — such tears of 
bitterness, such tears of loneliness. 

Perhaps Sam, quitting his post on the railway, 
may have wondered at the bowed figure, but he 
went off discreetly by his one way, a hundred 
yards further down the field. ^ 

In the starry darkness Kitty came to herself, 
and slowly made her way to the only home she 
had. Emotion had weakened her physically, 
but her spirit yet struggled strongly in the toils. 
She had stiU nearly twenty-four hours of free- 
dom, such as it was. To-night it was too late 
for any persecution from Alec. Symington, who 
surely must have left the cottage some time ago, 
and gone home, for it was now nearing eleven 
o’clock. 

But on the road, at the gate of the field, he was 
waiting. 


CHAPTER V 


“ A EEI^’T you going to shake hands ? ” he 
asked. He was leaning on the gate, 
smoking a cigarette. 

It was not so dark that the girl, who had halted 
a couple of yards away, could fail to see the smile 
accompanying the words. Symington’s was by 
no means an ill-looking countenance, though 
forty years, half of them strenuous after a fashion,- 
had blurred the fineness of the 'well-shaped 
features ; it would have been attractive, admir- 
able even, but for something in the eyes, some- 
thing about the mouth, under the'nicely trimmed 
tawny moustache, that is not to be fully described 
by the word covetous. His was a face that no 
wise man would regard without doubts, that no 
wise woman would trust. Symington was tall 
and broad-shouldered, but in the light of day 
he had a softish look, and one imagined him as a 
“ fat man ” in the years soon to come. He was 
no hard-working farmer. White Farm had come 
44 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


45 


to him for lack of a worthier and fitter heir, his 
two brothers having died not long before his 
father, and there were honest people in the neigh- 
bom’hood who wonld tell you that the good old 
property was already on the road to ruin. Sym- 
ington’s record was that of a man who had seen 
a good deal of life in different parts of the world, 
and learned little worth knowing, who had fre- 
quently touched the skirts of Fortune but never 
captured her, and who had gambled away more 
hours than, he had toiled. And now, at forty, 
he was probably nearer to Fortune than he had 
ever been, and eertainly nearer to love, as he 
understood it. For in Kitty Carstairs he had 
nothing to gain but youthful sweetness and fresh 
beauty ; indeed, in a material sense, the possession 
of her was going to cost him dear — ^if he kept his 
bond with the contemptible John Corrie. 

“ Aren’t you going to shake hands ? ” he asked 
again. 

“ Please open the gate,” said Kitty, “ or I must 
go home another way.” 

“ It’s a lovely night, and your aunt knows I’m 
looking after you. I want to have a talk with you, 
Kitty.” 

She sighed. “ I’m very tired — ^too tired to 
Listen to any one. Please let me go.” 


D 


46 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ I won’t keep you long, and we can find a nice 
dry seat in tke wood, since you’re so tired. Come, 
you needn’t be shy with me, Kitty ” 

“ Are you going to open the gate ? ” she coldly 
asked. 

“ Immediately, if you’ll promise ” 

He turned sharply. Some one had come out 
of the little wood, and was crossing the road. 

“ Is that you. Miss ? ” 

“ Oh, Sam ! ” cried the girl m a gasp of relief. 

“ Can ye no’ get the gate open ? ” the postman 
inquired, as though no Symington had been there. 
He came forward and laid a hand on the' bolt. 

“ What the blazes do you want ? ” blurted 
Symington, suddenly erect. 

“ I’m thinking Miss Carstairs is due home by 
now,” Sam said coolly. “ What do ye say. 
Miss ? ” 

“ Miss Carstairs is in my charge, you inter- 
fering fool ? ” 

“ Ko, no, Sam ; I’m not ! — and I want to get 
home at once.” 

“ Kindly stand aside, Mr. Symington,” said 
the postman. 

“ Stand aside — ^for you ! ” exclaimed Syming- 
ton in a fury. With an ugly laugh and a curse 
he drove his fist at the little man’s face, sending 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


47 


him down in a heap. “ That’s to go on with,” he 
gaid, and strolled off. 

“ Oh, you coward ! ” cried Kitty, wrenching 
open the gate. “ Are you badly hurt, Sana ? ” 

Sam was already rising, holding his aching jaw. 
Inwardly he was raging, but all he said then was, 
“ All right. Miss. My turn’ll maybe come. And 
now I’ll be seeing ye home.” 

She caught his arm, for he seemed in need of 
support. 

“ Ye’re trembling. Miss,” he remarked, “ and 
no wonder. Never mind ; it’s all over now. 
But I’d just like to hear ye say ye didna think me 
too interfering-Uke.” 

“ Oh,” she said earnestly, “ I don’t know what 
I’d have done if you hadn’t come. I’ll be grate- 
ful to you as long as ” 

“ There, there ! It’s a reward to hear that ye 
didna want his company, for he’s a rotten bad 
one. ” 

They walked a little way in silence, and then a 
sob escaped the girl. She was at the end of her 
wits and her courage. Few of us can struggle 
alone all the time, and she knew that Sam had 
saved her only for a matter of so many hours. 

“ Come, cheer up. Miss,” he said kindly. “Ye 
wasna in the office to-night, and your aunt told 


48 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


me ye wasna so well, so it’s no wonder ye’re upset, 
stm ” 

“ Sam,” slie interrupted, “ I’m going to teU 
you everything — ^nearly everything. You’re the 
only soul I can trust.” And in whispered, spas- 
modic sentences she poured forth her tale. 

Sam was more than shocked ; he was over- 
whelmed. 

“ To think of it, to think of it !” he repeated 
feebly a dozen times before wrath and pity took 
command of his honest soul. Then he was for 
taking John Corrie by the throat, and shaking all 
but the last breath out of his body, for telling 
Miss Corrie exactly what he thought of her, and 
for presenting Kitty with his savings, yea, and 
his own little abode, to enable her to stand inde- 
pendent of her unnatural relatives. 

She was half-laughing, half-crying, by the time 
he paused for breath. 

“ Oh, Sam, you know I’d never allow you to do 
any of those things for my sake, but I’ll never 
forget your goodness. You mustn’t do anything, 
or I’ll wish I hadn’t told you. But I do want 
you to advise me what to do.” 

“I never liked John Corrie,” he cried, “nor 
did any soul in Dunford ; but I never doubted 
he was a straight man. But dinna ye be afraid 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


49 


for the five-pun’ note business — dinna ye be afraid 
for that ! ” 

“ But that’s what I am afraid of ! I might 
escape from Mr. Symington by simply going away, 
but not from ” 

“ Your uncle would never dare to ” 

“ Dare ? After what he’s done, what would 
he not dare ? And he’s clever in his way. 
How did he get that five-pound note into my 
drawer ? ” 

Sam’s hand went to his mouth. A sound not 
unlike a chuckle became the begiuning of a fit of 
coughing. When it had passed he said — 

“ We’ll maybe find that out yet, so dinna let 
it bother ye too much. Miss. But if he tries to 
frighten ye, let me know, and I’U deal wi’ him — 
by gravy, I’U deal wi’ him ! ” 

“ Sam, you must be careful. What if he got 
you into trouble, and you lost your ” 

“ I can take care o’ myself,” said Sam, “ except, 
maybe at the boxiug — and I didna get fair play 
from that scoundrel.” He laughed ruefuUy. 

“ The beast ! ” 

“ WeU, weU, as I said, my turn’U maybe come 
— and yours’U come to a certainty. Miss. Keep 
up your heart. Are ye feeling a bit better 
now ? ” 


60 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ Oh, yes,” she answered warmly. “ It’s not 
so awful when one isn’t all alone.” 

“ Poor, pretty thing ! ” he said gently, “ ye’ll 
win through yet. . . . And now we’re nearly 
there, and I’d best no be seen wi’ ye. We’U get 
a talk at sorting-time in the morning.” 

“ Unless I’m forbidden the office.” 

“ If your uncle does that, we’ll just ha’ to find 
another way.” 

With a hurried pat on her shoulder, he turned 
and went. 

The cottage door was not locked. Having 
entered, Kitty stood still for a moment, listening. 
Silence. She turned into the kitchen to find it, 
as she had scarcely dared to hope, unoccupied. 
Her aunt and uncle had evidently retired for the 
night. A candle burned on the table. A jug 
of nulk, bread and butter were there also. Some- 
how the sight of f(2pd stirred her sense of humour. 
She had read of a murderer being treated to an 
egg with his breakfast on the morning of his 
execution, and it had struck her as pathetically 
absurd. Never before had such an attention 
been paid her. She drank a Little milk, because 
she was thirsty, and went upstairs. 

On the chest of drawers in her room she found 


KITTY CARSTAIES 


51 


a piece of yellow wrapping paper bearing her 
aunt’s writing in pencil. 

“Do your work in the office to-morrow morning 
as usual.” 

So her uncle intended to keep his promise that 
she should “ go free ” until the following night. 
But after that, what ? 

If Kitty had disliked Symington in the past, 
she hated him, nay, detested him now. Yes, and 
despised him. His assault on Sam had brought 
about the last. To give Symington his due, he 
had regretted the blow almost at once. It had 
been a stupid blunder to make in Kitty’s pre- 
sense. Her indignant, contemptuous words had 
told him that. 

He had gone home angry with himself, cursing 
the postman, feeling that it would be inadvisable, 
if not fatal, to approach the girl again until the 
thing had cooled in her mind. Then he could 
apologize, blaming the outburst on his overpower- 
ing desire for her. Yes, he had better give her 
a week, during which Old Corrie would, of course, 
continue to exert his influence. Meantime he 
would make a trip to London. Whether he liked 
it or not, he must convert a .few Zeniths into 
cash. 

Kitty endured a bad two hours before sleep 


52 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


came, but nature won at last, and sbe passed the 
remainder of the night in blessed unconsciousness. 

With the morning mail-bags Sam arrived in a 
heated condition, puffing and blowing. 

“ I was in such a hurry to see how ye was. 
Miss,” he explained. “ Keeping up your heart ? ” 

She gave him a nod and a brave smile. Poor 
old Sam ! he was good and kind and willing, but 
how could he really help her from her hideous 
plight ? 

They fell to work on the cbntents of the sacks, 
and the minutes ticked past. 

“ Eegistered letter. Miss,” said Sam, throwing 
it to her end of the counter, as he usually did with 
such a packet. 

She was about to lay it aside for attention later 
when the address caught her eye. A cry escaped 
her. 

Sam turned to see her, white as a ghost, teariug 
at the envelope; 

“ Oh, what can it be ? ” she whispered. Then, 
as if courage failed her, “ Sam, come and take it. 
Tell me what it’s all about. I — daren’t look. 
It may be nothing much, after all.” 

Sam’s fingers were none too steady as he, re 
ceived the envelope. “ Eegistered at Glasgow,” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


53 


he muttered, and proceeded to extract the con- 
tents. 

These were a fairly plump number of bank- 
notes, and a half-sheet of paper bearing the 
words — 

“ From an old friend of your father.” . . . 
Sam read them aloud while she stood rigid with 
her face in her hands. 

“ Am I to coimt them ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes,” she murmured. 

“ Five-pun’ notes,” he said, and there followed 
a rustling pause. “ Twenty o’ them — a hundred 
pound. . . . See !” he took one of her hands from 
her face, and pressed the bundle into it. “ Feel 
them — they’re real, ye poor, pretty thing ! ” 


CHAPTEE VI 


S AM was doomed to be late in starting on bis 
round that morning. The moment Kitty’s 
miud grasped tbe significance of tbe windfall 
Iter tongue was loosed. Sbe talked excitedly, 
even wildly. Tbe sender of tbe notes — sbe wished 
be bad given bis name — must be some one whom 
ber father bad helped in tbe old days. Her father 
was always lending money that never came back. 
That was why there was none when be died. Sbe 
hoped sbe might some day discover tbe sender, 
otherwise be could never realize bow much more 
than kind, bow truly wonderful, was tbe thing 
be bad done. For be bad given a desperate, per- 
secuted girl ber freedom ! 

“ But what are ye going to do. Miss ? ” Sam 
ventured at last. 

“ I’m going to trust you,” sbe said, with a 
broken laugh. 

“ Aye, surely ye can do that. But I hope ye’re 

54 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


56 


no’ for being reckless. Your eyes are shining 
something terrible.” 

She laughed again, and said, “ I’m going to 
London ! ” 

“ London ! ” 

“ To-night ! ” 

It took Sam some moments to recover. “ But 
what’s taking ye a’ the road to London ? ” 

“ I’ve always wanted to go. I’ve always said 
I would go if I had the money — and now I’ve 
got it ! ” 

“ Ha’ ye friends in London ? ” 

“ I’ve no enemies.” 

“ Oh, but this’U never do ! ” he cried. “ What’ll 
happen to ye ? ” 

“ Perhaps I’ll have some adventures — I hope 
so — an’ ” 

“ Adventures, guid God ! ” 

“ — And I may make my fortune.” 

He threw up his hands muttering, “ Oh, dear 1 
the money has turned her head ! ” 

She laid her hand on his arm. “ I want you 
to help me,” she said softly ; “ that is, if you can 
do it without getting yourself into trouble. The 
express stops at Kenny Junction at five minuteg 
to nine, but that’s six miles away, and I must, 
take some luggage ” 


o6 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ Mercy on us ! ” he exclaimed, “ how can ye 
think it out so quick ? ” 

“ I’ve thought it out, and dreamed of it, and 
cried about it, Sam, oh, a hundred times ! Now, 
can you get some one with a cart, or anything on 
wheels, to meet me, secretly, outside of the 
village, at seven o’clock ? ” 

He gave her a long look. “ Will ye no’ think 
over it. Miss ? ” he asked at last. 

“ I’m going to-night. Can’t you imagine what 
Ide here, with those people, must be ? ” 

“ Aye,” he said slowly. “ Ko’ to be endured, I 
dare say. But ” — ^he became timid — “ I mim ask 
ye a question. Miss, whether it offends ye or no. 
It — ^it’s about young Mr. Hayward. Ye’re no’ 
running away wi’ him, are ye ? ” . 

Once more she laughed. “ I had forgotten 
all about him,” she said truthfully. “ What a 
question to ask ! ” Then she flushed a little. 

He looked abashed as he murmured — 

“ Young folks do stupid things in haste, and 
it ^was for both your sakes I asked the question. 
Well, well,” he went on, “ if your mind’s made up, 
I suppose I canna change it.” 

“ And you’ll see about a cart, Sam ? ” she said 
eagerly. 

“ Ko, I’ll no’ do that ! ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


57 


“ Wliat ? . . . why ? ” 

“ Because when ye leave your uncle’s house, 
when ye leave Dunford, ye mun leave wi’ your 
head "high and your name fair. Think, Miss! 
What’U it mean if ye creep away as if — as if ye 
was guilty ? Why, it would mean that your 
imcle would be free to make a scandal, aye, and 

maybe do something worse ” 

“ But he can prove me guilty as it is ! And 
do you think for a moment he would let me go ? ” 
“ Will ye trust me. Miss ? ” 

“ Of course, Sam.” 

“ Ye promise ? ” 

“ Yes ; if you won’t keep me from going ? ” 
“ Then ye’ve promised ! Kow listen, for we’ll 
maybe no’ get another chknce to arrange it. At 
seven o’clock to-night ye’ll ha’ your bag and 
things ready, and ye’U come down the stair, wi’ 
neither fear nor trembling, and ye’ll open the 

door, and ye’ll find me waiting wi’ a cart ” 

“ But, Sam, Sam ” 

“ And if your uncle or your aunt asks where 
ye’re going, answer the truth. But if they try 
to stop ye, leave them to me. That’s all. If ye 
canna trust me ” 

“ Oh, but I will — I do ! ” she cried, “ though I 
don’t imderstand ” 


58 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ Then it’s settled, and I just hope I’m no’ doing 
a had thing for ye in helping ye. . . . And now 
the folk’ll be wondering what’s come over their 
letters.” 

Kitty was not sorry to discover that she had 
ordy five minutes left for breakfast. She was all 
apprehension lest her nerves or her looks should 
betray her. The slightest appearance of cheer- 
fulness, she felt, would alone be fatal. Fortunately, 
her uncle had left the table, and was immersed 
in the morning paper at the fireside. Zeniths 
had fallen half a crown, and it seemed to him 
the beginning of the end. His niece’s engage- 
ment to Symington twelve hours hence would 
not take place a moment too soon. He never 
doubted that the girl would give in. 

Miss Corrie, silent, her face a melancholy mask, 
was beginning to tidy up things. 

Hot a word was spoken during the girl’s brief 
stay at the table, but when she rose to go to open 
the office her uncle spoke from behind the paper. 

“ Ye’ll mind what I told ye ? ” 

Without response she made for the door. And 
just then her mind was suddenly confronted with 
a new difficulty. She was expected to be on duty 
in the post office until 8 p.m. . . . and yet she 
must have her things packed and be ready for 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


59 


Sam an hour earlier. At the door she turned, 
feeling it was now or never. In a voice that shook 
natmaUy enough she said — 

“ I don’t think I can stop in the office till eight 
to-night. I’m too tired.” 

There was a silence full of acute suspense, until 
he returned grudgingly — 

“ Very well. Your aunt can take charge after 
tea.” 

She hurried away, her heart thumping with 
relief. She would have nearly an hour and a half 
to herself before the hour of departure. Heaven 
help her to keep her self-control till then. She 
told herself she did not doubt Sam, and yet . . . 

“ John,” said Miss Corrie, “ do ye think she’ll 
give in ? ” 

“ She darena face the other thing.” 

After a pause — “ John, what do ye think she 
wanted the five-pun’ note for ? ” 

“ Ye can ask her.” 

“ She might ha’ got a safer place to hide it 
than she did ” 

“ Will ye hold your silly tongue, woman ! 
Zeniths went down two-and-six yesterday. I’m 
going up to White Farm.” 

♦ ♦ :fc H: ♦ 

Eleven hours later Kitty stood in her room 


60 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


ready to go. It was seven o’clock, but she was 
allowing a minute or two to pass in order to make 
sure of Sam’s being there. Her courage was at 
ebb, and she was very pale. Yet she hoped she 
might escape from the house without:? being 
noticed. The best of her worldly goods were 
contained in a bag and hold-all, part of her luggage 
of five years ago. 

At last she felt she must go or faint. She 
opened the door softly and picked up her burdens. 
The bag was heavy. She was taking her father’s 
manuscripts. Stealthily she stepped across the 
small landing, and began to descend. But it 
was impossible to move, laden as she was, on that 
narrow, wooden stair without making consider- 
able noise. And as she reached the bottom she 
was confronted by her uncle, who had just shut 
the shop for the night. 

“ What’s this ? ” he demanded with an awful 
frown, as he blocked the way to the front door. 

Kitty’s heart all but failed her. She cleared 
her throat, wet her lips, and managed to utter 
the words — 

“^I’m going to London.” 

For a moment the man was stupefied. Then 
his shout went down the passage leading to shop 
and post ofiice — 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


61 


‘‘ Eachel ! — ^here, quick ! ” 

In desperation Kitty sought to push past. He 
seized her arm. He was breathing hard ; his face 
was the colour of putty 

Miss Corrie appeared. 

‘‘ What is it ? Oh ! ” she exclaimed, perceiv- 
ing the luggage. 

“ She’s mad,” said her brother thickly, says, 
she going to London. Liker to jail ! ” 

‘‘ How can she go to London or any place ? 
cried the woman, ‘‘ unless — did ye check the cash 
John ? ” 

. “ Aunt Eachel ! ” exclaimed the girl. 

Take her luggage up the stair, Eachel,’^ 
Corrie ordered. “ We’U ha’ to do something ” 

The door was opened from the outside. Sam 
stood on the step. Beyond him, at the gate of 
the little garden, was a pony cart he had borrowed 
or hired. 

“ Are ye ready, Miss ? ” said Sam, cheerfully. 

Corrie strode to the door, his face working with 
passion. 

‘‘ What the do ye mean ? ” he demanded 

threateningly. 

Miss Carstairs,” said Sam, without flmchingj, 
is for London, and it’s my pleasure to drive her 
to the junction.” 

B 


62 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ He’s mad, too,” screamed Miss Corrie. “ Shut 
the door in his face.” 

Swiftly Sam stepped inside, and closed the door, 

“ Mr. Oorrie,” he said quietly, “ I would advise 
ye no’ to interfere.” To Kitty — “ I’ll take your 
luggage. Miss.” 

Corrie, beside himself, raised his fist. 

“ Wait,” said the other, still calmly. “ The 
folk in Dunford are maybe dull, but I could tell 
them a thing, Mr. Corrie, that would make them 
spit on ye in the street, and maybe pull your house 
and shop about your ears. . . . Come, Miss.” 

“ Move a step, and I send for the policeman,” 
roared Corrie. 

“ In which case,” retorted the postman, “ I’ll 
just ha’ to give ye in charge. For what, I ask 
ye, was ye doin’ up the ladder yesterday, about 
12.30 p.m. ? ” 

“ By God, postman. I’ll ” 

“ I’m askin’ ye a straight question. I was 
cornin’ down the hill at the time, but I’ve guid 
sight still, and what’s more I had a witness. Ye 
can say ye was paying attention to yer ivy — an’ 
truth it needs it ! — ^but in that case, I would ask 
ye if the ivy was growing inside o’ this young 
lady’s bedroom. . . . Come, Miss. He’ll no’ 
touch ye.” And opening the door, and then 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


63 


gently pushing Corrie out of the way, he took 
possession of the bag and hold-all. 

And he and the girl passed out without hin- 
drance. 

When they had gone the woman turned a 
ghastly face on her brother. 

“ John, ye mun tell me what he meant about 
the ladder.” 

As if he had not heard, Corrie staggered out 
of the house and took the road to White Farm. 

Sam put his charge into the express with many 
injunctions and a package of sweets. Kitty had 
scarcely spoken during the drive, and now speech 
failed her altogether. She could only cling to 
his rough hand, and nod her promises to send her 
address, when she found one, and let him know 
if ever she required help. He was a lonely man, 
and she had given him a new and great interest 
in life. 

They were too much engrossed . at the last 
minute to notice a high- wheeled gig dash up to the 
station gate and deposit a passenger who entered 
the train lower down just as it was starting. 

There were three other passengers in the 
compartment, all more or less inclined to doze. 
Though deadly tired, Kitty had no inclination 
for sleep. Kor could she give a thought to the 


64 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


future. Kot so soon could her mind and nerves 
recover from the strain and shock of the last 
two days. 

After Carlisle, however, she found herself 
alone, and the solitude began to have a soothing 
effect. She lay back in her corner and closed her 
eyes. The great train — the dear, kind monster 
she had so often watched and longed to travel on 
— thrmdered out its miles southward, and at two 
in the morning slumber was not far from the 
exhausted girl. 

Kitty gave a little sigh of content — and opened 
her eyes. 

The door of the compartment slid back. Alec. 
Symington entered. 


CHAPTER VII 


F or a moment or two Kitty was terror-stricken. 

Then common sense came to her aid. She 
was free, she was independent : the man might 
annoy her with his attentions, but he could' not 
harm her. She sat up and met his smile with a 
grave look of inquiry, 

“ This is a pleasant surprise, Kitty,” he said, 
seating himself directly opposite. “ Rather a 
crowd in my part of the train, and I was hunting 
for a compartment with room to spare when 
fortune led me here,” he Lied. “Not often I’m 
so lucky.” 

Kitty made no response. 

“You might have let me know you were going 
to make a* journey,” he said pleasantly, “ but per- 
haps you decided on it since I saw you.” He 
glanced at her things on the rack. “ I see you are 
going aU the way. Well, so much the better for 
me — eh ? Come, Kitty, be friendly and say 
something.” 


65 


66 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ I have nothing to say, Mr, Symington.” 

“ You’re thinking of last night — or, to be cor- 
rect, the night before last. Well, I’m glad of this 
chance of apologizing. I’m sorry I struck the 
postman, but I was mad with the man for inter- 
fering, you know. I had something to tell you, 
Kitty, something I’ve wanted to tell you for a 
long time. . . . Well, are you going to forgive 
me ? ” 

“ You had better ask Sam that. You didn’t 
hurt me — ^you only disgusted me, I think you 
should try to find a seat in another compart- 
ment.” She was quite cool now. Indeed, she 
was not sorry to have the opportunity of humili- 
ating him for Sam’s sake. 

At her words his face took on a dusky shade, 
but he asked quietly enough, “ Is that quite fair, 
Kitty ? ” 

“ You have no right to my name.” Had she 
owned a book then she would have opened it. 
She turned to the window, let up the bhnd, and 
sought to ignore him by peering out into the 
darkness ; but if she thought thus to get rid of his 
company, or even silence him, she was mistaken. 

“ You are a very foolish little girl,” he said 
presently. “ Here you are, running away to 
London, where you haven’t a friend ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


67 


“ Who told you that ? ” she demanded, turning 
on him. 

“ Well, have you ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” It was true. She had suddenly 
remembered that Colin was there, not that she 
expected ever to meet him. But the inspiration 
served her purpose : Symington was taken aback. 

“ Then it is some one your uncle does not 
know of,” he said sharply, and wished he had not 
spoken, for she was quick to retort — 

“ So my imcle told you I was in the train, 
though you pretended to be sm’prised to see me ! 
I may be foolish, Mr. Symington, but I’m not 
utterly stupid.” 

“ You are — delightfully stupid,” he returned, 
restraining his temper, “ if you think I’m going 
to let you disappear into London before I have 
seen what your friend is like. London is a 
dangerous place, as you would know if you had 
ever shown your pretty face in it before. Kow 
don’t get excited. Be reasonable — ^patient, if you 
Uke to call it that. I don’t wonder at your 
running away from yom' awful relations and that 
dead-alive village, but what are you going to do 
in London ? ” 

Kitty, now both angry and uneasy, did not 
reply. 


68 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ I don’t mean to be impertinent,” he went on, 
“ out I can’t help being aware that you have no 
money — or, at least, very little. Kow in Lon- 
don ” 

“ You needn’t concern yourself whether I have 
money or not,” she interrupted hotly. “ You 

will force me to leave this ” 

“ Please — ^just a moment. I can’t help con- 
<}erning myself — ^no man could — ^in the circum- 
stances. And as I happen to be a man who is 

in love with you — oh, you know it very well ” 

She rose to take her things from the rack. It 
was certainly not a wise move. With a strange 
laugh he sprang up and caught her, prisoning 
her arms. 

“ SUly little girl,” he whispered passionately, 
“ to think you can be quit of me so easily ! Ko, 
no ! I’ve got you and I mean to keep you. 
Don’t struggle — ^it’s no use. There ! ” he had her 
fast. They swayed a little with the movement 
of the train. “ Kow listen, Kitty,” he con- 
tinued, “ you’ll Uke me better when you know 
me better. I’m not a bad sort, and I can give 
you things you’ve never dreamed of. Let’s be 
friends for the present. I won’t hurry you about 
the other thing.” His voice sounded a tittle 
breathless. “ In a few hours we’ll be in London. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


69 


If your friend is there, good and well ; but if not, 
you must let me look after you — show you where 
to stay, and so on. Leave everything to me. 
We’ll have a jolly good time while you’re getting 
to know me ” 

Wrenching one of her hands free she struck him 
in the face. 

“ You beast ! ” 

Doubtless the word stung more than the blow. 
A madness grew in his eyes. 

“ By Heavens, I’ll kiss you for that ! ” he cried 
— and let her go with a stifled curse. The girl 
sank into her corner, ruddy. The man sat down, 
ghastly. 

The corridor door was drawn back by a yoimg 
woman in rather fashionable attire. In her left 
hand she had a “ sevenpenny, ” a finger marking 
the place. Without a glance at either occupant 
she stepped in and, leaving the door open, seated 
herself and began to read. 

Kitty had again turned her face to the window, 
and soon the shameful glow faded, leaving her 
pale. The natural reaction came, and she wanted 
to cry. Symington’s colour, on the other hand, 
had risen. Once more he sat opposite, looking 
hot and sulky. After a little while he produced 
his cigarette case, but he put it back imopened. 


70 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


He would liave given sometliing for a newspaper^ 
though it had been a week old. He was furious 
with the intruder, and now and then took a 
stealthy glance at her which might possibly have 
alarmed her had she observed it. Kow and then, 
also, he took such a glance at Kitty, and at last 
discovered that she was on the verge of tears. 
Confound it ! she must not be allowed to make a 
scene. He transferred himself to her side. 

“ Look here, Kitty, it’s all right,” he whis- 
pered, and surreptitiously put his hand on her 
elbow. 

She started as if from pollution. “ Can’t you 
leave me alone ? ” she said under her breath. 
“ I’ll never want to see you again, but I’ll hate 
you a little less, perhaps, if you go back to the 
compartment you came from — anywhere out of 
this.” 

Kettled, he replied, “You may as well make up 
your mind that I’m going to see you start safe 
in London.” 

She drew away from him as far as possible and 
resumed her study of the darkness. 

Symington, trying to look as if he had not 
been rebuffed, lay back, folded his arms and stared 
openly, rather rudely at the intruder, who was 
now making a pencil jotting on the fly-leaf of her 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


71 


book. When she bad finished writing she went 
back to the printed page, read for a few moments, 
and stopped as if an idea had struck her. She 
put up her hand and pressed the button 
labelled “ Attendant.” Then she returned to the 
story. 

It was beginning to dawn on Symington that 
she was not a bad looking girl, though she must 
be a pm’e idiot, when a steward from the sleeping- 
car appeared in the doorway. The man saluted 
the girl respectfully, and as though he were 
pleased to see her. 

“ Didn’t know you were travelling with us 
to-night. Miss,” he remarked. 

She smiled upon him, and tearing out the 
fiy-leaf, folded and handed it to him with a look 
which apparently he understood. He bowed and 
retired. 

, Symington had got the length of admitting to 
himself that in other circumstances she might 
have made a pleasant enough travelling com-' 
panion, when the oflBcial again appeared. Hot a 
little to Symington’s surprise it was himself who 
the man now addressed. 

“ Excuse me, sir,” came the poUte English 
speech, “ but I can find you a comfortable seat 
in another part of the train.” 


72 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


After a slight pause — “ Thanks,” said Syming- 
ton shortly, “ but I’m pretty well where I am.” 

“ Sorry sir, but this compartment is reserved 
for ladies only,” said the other, politely as before, 
and proceeded to affix to the window a label 
bearing out his statement. 

Symington hesitated, but he had the wit to 
realize that there was nothing for it but to go. 
Bluster would only make him ridiculous. With 
what dignity he could command he said to Kitty, 
“ I’ll see you when we arrive,” favoured the in- 
truder with a scowl which ought to have slain her, 
but which nearly made her smile, and followed 
the official. 

And Kitty began to sob helplessly, her face in 
her handkerchief. 

At the end of, perhaps, a couple of minutes 
she felt a light touch on her shoulder, and was 
aware that the intruder was sitting down beside 
her. 

“ If you cry any longer,” said a calm low- 
pitched voice, “ I’ll be thinking I did the wrong 
thing in interfering. Besides, the attendant will 
be here immediately with some tea for us, and he 
might think he had done the wrong thing, too. 
Also, you have nothing to cry about now — ^have 
you ? ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


73 


“ Oh,” said Kitty, wiping her eyes with one 
hand and groping for the stranger’s with the 
other, “ the relief was too much for me. How 
can I ever thank you for being so kind and 
c-clever ! ” 

“You can postpone that till another day. Miss 
Carstairs — don’t be alarmed : I saw it on your 
luggage,” the other said, with a reassuring hand- 
clasp. “ Mine’s Hilda Eisk, though I’m quite a 
cautious person, as a rule. To-night I made an 
exception,” she went on, giving Kitty time to 
recover herself, “ and interfered in a way that 
must have seemed rather extraordinary to you. 
But I simply couldn’t help it. I noticed you 
before you got into the train, and I saw you were 
troubled and nervous. I noticed the — oh, well, 
the gentleman arrive at the last moment and get 
on board after glaring about him. And as I hap- 
pened to be just next door to you, and in a seat 
next the corridor, I observed him prowling along, 
ever so often, and taking stock of your compart- 
ment. And every time he appeared, I admired 
him less — I hardly know why. And the last time 
he came I saw him grin. And when he entered 
your compartment I tried calling myself a fool, 
and telling myself it was none of my business, but 
I couldn’t rest, and after a little while I took the 


74 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


chance of putting my foot in it dreadfully — and 
you know the rest. Feeling better now ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, thank you,” Kitty answered, turn- 
ing her attention from her eyes to her pretty hair. 
“ But you were so cool ! ” 

“ I suppose I was. Once I’ve made up my mind 
to do a thing, I get that way. Besides, I’m never 
afraid of a man ! ” 

“ Kever afraid of a man ! ” cried Kitty in tones 
of such amazement that her new friend checked 
a laugh. 

“ Ko ; because, yon see, a man in his soul is 
always afraid of a woman. It’s a useful thing 
to remember. Miss Carstairs.” 

“ But — but do you — ^hate men ? ” 

“ On the contrary ! Most of my friends are 
men. Here comes the tea ; now we’ll be happy ! ” 
The attendant placed the tray on the seat, 
beamed on Miss Eisk and withdrew. 

Kitty looked hke crying again. 

“ I believe you’re hungry,” said Hilda. “ Fall 
to on the bread and butter, and I’ll pour out. 
It requires a little practice, you know.” She 
proceeded to talk about herself, explaining, much 
to Kitty’s interest, that she was a journalist. 

Most of my work consists of ‘ specials ’ for The 
Lady's Mirror, rather a swagger weekly, though 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


75 


quite young. I ‘ do ’ aU sorts of big functions, 
swell weddings, and so forth. IVe a knack for 
making dreary things look bright in print, also 
a knack for making the duU remarks of prominent 
persons seem brilliant. These are the chief 
reasons, I fancy, why the Editor sends me all the 
way from London instead of employing some 
one on the spot. I have just come from Aber- 
deen, and if you read my article in the next 
week’s Mirror, you will imagine that I was in 
fairyland instead of in the worst of weather, at a 
damaged garden party, among a few hundred 
ordinary humans who wished themselves at 
home ! But I enjoyed myself — I generally 
do.” 

She looked as if she did, thought Kitty, ventur- 
ing for the first time to take note of her new friend’s 
appearance. Hilda inclined to fairness. Her 
hair was a pale brown without tinge of red, and 
her fine skin was almost pale, though the lips were 
warmly coloured. Her nose was short and 
straight, her chin, while nicely rounded, hinted 
at a certain boldness — not aggressiveness — of 
character. Her dark, bluish-grey eyes were 
unusually wide-set, and this peculiarity — for 
it was such — affected you first as merely piquant, 
but ere long as very charming with its suggestion 


76 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


of sincerity and honesty. She was probably 
six or seven years older than Kitty. She chatted 
on about herself and her work till she saw that 
Kitty had made a fair meal. 

“ Feeling pretty fit now, aren’t you ? ” she said 
encouragingly, and rang the beU. 

“ Oh, quite different ; I don’t know what to say 
to you. Miss Eisk,” Kitty said gratefully. 
“ You’ve been so good to me — and you don’t know 
a thing about me.” 

“ May I ask two questions ? ” 

“ Ask anything — ^please.” 

“ Just two for the present. Have you friends 
meeting you at Euston ? ” 

» Ko.” 

“ And where do you want to go on your arrival 
in London ? ” 

“ I — don’t know.” 

Hilda nodded gravely. “ I see you have a 
story,” she said, “ but even if you wish to tell 
it, I want you to keep it back — for the present, 
at any rate. You and I must have a nap, or we 
shall be mere wrecks at the end of the journey 
— and I’ve pages to cover before lunch-time. 
Ah, here he comes ! ” 

The attendant appeared carrying pillows and 
rugs. “ I don’t think you’ll be disturbed. Miss,” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


77 


he said, ere he retired with 'the~ tray and the silver 
Hilda had laid on it. 

Two minutes later she had Kitty tucked up 
on one of the seats. 

“ Kow go to sleep without wasting a moment 
in worrying over what’s going to happen a few 
hours hence. We’U manage nicely. Leave it to 
me.” 

And Kitty left it. She was not used to being 
taken care of, but even the novelty of that 
experience did not long withstand slumber. In 
a few minutes she had forgotten it along with her 
weariness and woes. 

He 4: :)c 

As the porter took their things, Hilda whispered 
to Kitty — 

“ Don’t look about you ; and if you happen 
to see him, don’t show it. Come along ! ” 

Presently, they were driving westwards in an 
open taxi-cab. It was a lovely morning, and 
the air was delicious after the confinement of the 
long journey. 

“ What a nice country colour you have,” 
Hilda remarked, but you’re not a country-bred 
girl, are you ? ” 

Why do you say that ? ” 

F 


78 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ Because you take all tMs as a matter of 
course.” 

“ You mean that I don’t seem excited ? But, 
you see, I — I’m wondering.” 

“ Where we are going ? ” said Hilda, taking a 
quick glance behind. 

“ Am I rude ? ” 

“ Kot at all. A most natural thing to wonder 
about. Well, at the present, we are going to 
call — ^just for a moment — on my rich and only 
brother, who does not approve of my way of Ufe, 
though he’s as good as any brother could be. 
After I have given him a message you are coming 
home with me for breakfast — and that’s enough 
to go on with, I hope.” 

“ But you don’t know anything about me ! ” 
cried Kitty. 

Hilda’s smile was very kind. “ I certainly 
don’t know your pedigree, nor the name and 
address of your dentist ; but I believe I could 
guess almost as much as you could tell me con- 
cerning your recent troubles. However, you can 
tell me what you will, later on. Me^time, take 
it easy and get up an appetite.” 

The cab turned to the left, negotiating a maze 
of streets of varied aspect, and at last drew up 
at the imposing doorway of Aberdare Mansions. 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


79 


“ We shall take our things with us,” said 
Hilda, “ and find another cab when we need 
it.” 

In the hall, waiting for the hft, she said : 
“ Now don’t be alarmed. Our friend of last 
night followed us in another taxi, and has doubt- 
less noted the address. I fancied he would do 
something hke that, and accordingly we have 
stopped here.” 

“ To put him on a wrong scent ! ” Kitty ex- 
claimed almost gleefully. “ How clever you 
are ! ” 

“ Now let’s go up and giye my brother the 
message. Our things can lie here till we come 
down again. In you go ! ” 

They soared to the fourth floor, where the 
conductress rang at the door on the right. A 
discreet-looking man-servant opened, and per; 
mitted himself to smile a welcome. 

“ Good morning. Sharp,” said Hilda. “ We’re 
not coming in. I want to see Mr. Eisk for twenty 
seconds. As it’s so early, he may come in his 
dressing-gown. Tell him it’s most urgent.” 

Possibly Sharp was used to Miss Eisk’s ways, 
for he went without hesitation, and before long 
his master, garbed as Hilda had suggested, came 
forward. He was tall, thin, clean-shaven, and 


80 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


you would have known him as Hilda’s brother 
by his eyes. 

“ Good Lord ! ” he exclaimed at the sight of 
Kitty. “ I beg your pardon ! ” he added quickly. 
“ What is it, Hilda ? ” 

“ Just this, John. If a gentleman, more or 
less, should call here with inquiries about a Miss 
Kitty Carstairs, you will oblige by treating him 
as you would treat an undesirable person inquuing 
for your own sister. And please instruct Sharp 
accordingly.” 

“ Very well,” said Mr. Eisk, without the slightest 
emotion of any kind. “ I’ll remember, and so 
shall Sharp. But may I know the gentleman’s 
name, more or less ? ” 

Hilda turned to Kitty. “ Would you mind ? ” 

“ Mr. Symington,” murmured Kitty, with a 
lovely, shameful colour. 

“ Thank you. . . . But, my dear sister, where 
are your manners ? ” 

It was Hilda’s turn to blush. “ Oh, Miss Car- 
stairs, do forgive me ! That wretched man put 
everything out of my head. Let' me introduce 
my brother, Mr. Eisk— Miss Carstairs.” 

Mr. Eisk held out his hand — apparently he 
had forgotten his costume — and the embarrassed 
girl could not but take it. • 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


81 


“ I never wonder at my sister making friends,” 
lie said pleasantly, “ but 1 do marvel tbat she 
keeps any. Well, Hilda, won’t you and Miss 
Carstairs stay and take breakfast with me ? ” 

“ Impossible — thanks all the same. Good-bye, 
John, and don’t forget the name.” 

“ I wiU,” he retorted teasingly, “ and treat all 
inquiring gentlemen as you requested.” 

Hilda went laughing into the lift, and Kitty, 
feeling the friendlyjClasp|of her arm, smiled almost 
happily. 


OHAPTEE VIII 


T the same hour, some four hundred miles 



away, Kitty’s absence was being felt. It 
was time to open the post office, and John Corrie 
was realizing that he would have more than 
enough to do until he secured a new assistant — 
whom he would have to pay ! 

Corrie had just opened the shop. Outside the 
boy was cleaning the windows ; inside Miss Corrie 
was setting things straight on the provision 
counter. He himself was bending at the open 
safe, taking out the usual supplies of silver and 
copper for the tills. These were contained in 
ancient battered pewter mugs, and now he laid 
the mugs on the floor preparatory to closing and 
locking up the safe. 

An impatient knocking came from the post 
office, and he cursed under his breath. But it 
was already five minutes past eight, and it would 
never do to have talk about the office not being 
opened punctually. Eising, he called to his 
sister to look after the money, and hastened away 
to admit the knocker. 


82 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


83 


Miss Corrie moved listlessly towards the safe. 
Her face had a dra^ look. She had not slept. 
She had spoken scarce a word to her brother 
since Kitty’s departure, and neither she nor Sam,, 
whom she had helped with the sorting this morn 
ing, had referred to the previous evening’s affair. 
Sam and Corrie had not yet met. . 

But, a yard from the safe, the woman’s Ust- 
lessness vanished, her face flamed, and then went, 
more pallid than ever. Kever before had her 
brother done such a thing ! ! — gone out of the 
shop, leaving his keys in the safe. Her oppor- 
trmity at last ! 

She ran softly to the door that opened on the 
post office and put. her ear to it. Several persons 
were demanding the postmaster’s attention. 
There was time as well as opportunity ! She 
darted' back to the safe . . . opened it, then 
the drawer on the left . . . searched . . . and 
found what she sought — the letter written to 
her brother by Kitty’s father when he was dying. 
She hid it in her bosom, to read when she might 
safely do so. She left the safe as she had found 
it, took up the mugs of money and proceeded to 
supply the tills with change. The letter seemed 
to scorch her breast. She could not wait. 

. Summoning the boy, she bade him keep an eye 


84 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


on the shop for a few minutes, and passed into 
the cottage. In the kitchen, she seated herself 
at the hearth and, quaking, took out the letter. 
The only portion which concerns us is the follow- 
ing 

“ You may perhaps find nothing in the enclosed 
share certificates (which, please note, are ‘ bearer ’) 
but a fresh evidence of my folly in worldly matters. 
Still, the Zenith Gold Mine is the only thing of 
the kind I ever put hard-earned money into. 
There are 5,000 £1 shares, and I paid 2s. apiece 
for them, and at the moment they are unsaleable. 
I acted on the advice of a friend who had seen 
the property, and who had knowledge of such 
things. He was convinced that the mine would 
come right in time — meaning years — and pay big 
dividends. Well, he may have been all wrong, 
and I the silliest of poor fools ; but now, John, 
I put the shares in your keeping as a ‘ pos- 
sibfiity ’ for Kitty, when she comes of age. I have 
never mentioned them to her — certainly not with 
any reference to herself — for I don’t want her to 
be more disappointed in me than I can help. 
Give them to her when she is twenty-one, and 
show her this letter, and if by any chance they 
are worth money then, or later, she will at least 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


85 


repay you what she may have cost you — though, 
of course, I am hoping she wUl earn enough to 
do that as she goes along. 

“ N.B. — Should you hear of the shares rising 
before then, you will just use your discretion, 
and do the best you can for my girl.” 

Miss Corrie swayed as though she would fall. 
“ So that’s why he would never let me read it 
properly!” she muttered. “Oh, John Corrie, 
what ha’ ye done I ” 

After a little while she obtained control over 
her body. “ What made him keep a thing like 
that ? It should ha’ been burned — burned and 
forgot ! 

She reached forward, held the letter over 
the fire — and drew it back. “ But what if he 
misses it from the safe ? ” 

In miserable uncertainty she began to re-read 
the document. In the midst of it she went rigid. 
Her brother was coming through the shop, callmg 
her. Her fingers fumbled at her bodice. Too 
late ! In her panic her eye was caught by the 
morniug’s paper lying on the fioor at her side. 
She snatched it up, pushed the letter into the 
folds, and made pretence of reading. 

“ What’s wrong wi’ ye ? ” said Corrie, entering. 


86 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ I was just looking at the price of Zeniths,” 
she stanimered. 

“ Away and attend to the post office,” he 
returned. “ I mun be in the shop this fore- 
noon. . . . D’ye hear me ? ” . 

“ Aye.” To take the paper with her would be 
sheer madness, she reflected quickly ; besides he 
was done with it. She would come back for it 
at the first opportunity. Letting it fall where 
she had found it, she got up and left the kitchen. 

He followed her, growling. 

At half-past eleven, the morning delivery 
finished, Sam, as was his custom, came into the 
shop to purchase a paper. 

“ There’s no’ one left,” said the boy. 

From the opposite counter, where he was 
serving a customer, Corrie called to the boy — 

“ Ye’ll get one in the house.” It was not the 
flrst time he had sold his own paper to the post- 
man. 

So presently the boy came back with the paper, 
and Sam, folding it up, put it in his pocket, and 
went home to see what was happening in the 
great world. 


CHAPTEE IX 

F OETUXATELY for liis stomach’s sake, at 
any rate, it was the weekly half-holiday,, 
so that Mr. Corrie, having closed the shop at 
one, was free to relieve his sister in the post office 
and dispatch her to prepare, with all speed, 
something in the way of dinner. He was a little 
astonished at the eagerness with which she 
departed to do his bidding. 

A minute later she was back, looking as though 
she had seen a ghost. 

“ John, where’s the paper ? ” 

“ What paper ? ” 

“ The morning paper. Quick ! — ^what ha’ ye 
done Wi’ it ? ” 

He turned from the counter with a grunt of 
impatience. “ Get my dinner ready and never 
heed about the paper ! If ye want to ken, Zeniths 
dropped six-and-threepence yesterday — ^no’ that 
it matters to us now. Away wi’ ye and hurry 
up.” 


87 


88 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ Johii, for the love o’ God, teU me where the 
paper is ! ” 

That startled him. “ What the mischief’s 
wrong wi’ ye, woman ? ” he demanded, regarding 
her frowningly. “ Sam, the postman, got the 
paper. There wasna another in the shop ” 

For a moment’s space she gazed at him as 
though he had said something too awful for 
heUef. Then, with a wail, she threw up her 
hands. 

“ It’s the beginning o’ the judgment ! ” 

“ What d’ye mean ? Are ye daft ? ” He 
seized her roughly by the arm. “ Speak ! ” 

“ The letter was inside the paper,” she moaned. 

“ The letter ! What letter ? ” 

“ Hugh Carstairs’ letter about the shares. . . . 

I took it from the safe to read it. . . . When I ' 
heard ye coming to the kitchen I was feared, 
and I hid it in the paper. . . . I — 1 didna mean 
to betray ye, John, but — oh, diuna look at me 
like that ! ” 

“ Ye ! ” he stormed, “ ye’ve ruined me, 

damned me ! ” For an instant it seemed as 
though he would smite her, but he flung away, 
saying, “ Get out o’ my sight ! Ye’ve done for 
your brother ! ” 

Yet, for all his passion, his mind was working 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


89 


quickly. He recalled her as she tottered through 
the shop. 

“ There’s just a chance he hasna opened it yet. 
Haste ye to his house and tell him ye want a 
sight o’ it for ten minutes. Make any excuse ye 
hke, hut gang quick.” 

Willingly she went, poor soul, for with all her 
being she loved this brother of hers, contemptible 
thief though he was. 

John Corrie lived a hideous age in the ten 
minutes that followed. Then Eachel returned 
with the paper in her hand, but everything else 
about her told him she had failed. 

“ John,” she said, “ I’U offer him every penny 
I possess ” — she had laid by nearly two thousand 
pounds — “ for the letter.” 

As though he had not heard her he passed into 
the empty, semi-dark shop, and sank on a chair 
at the counter. He was weak and sick with 
dread. 

She followed, and repeated her suggestion. 

“ Away ! ” he cried ; “ I mun think.” 

Eeluctantly she left him, and m the kitchen 
recovered herself sufficiently to set about pre- 
paring some strong tea. 

An hour passed before he joined her, and started 
to pace the floor. 


90 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ Te read the letter ? ” he asked at last, 
abruptly, in a repressed voice. 

She nodded, her mouth quivering. 

“ Ye ken what it means in the hands o’ an 
enemy — a friend o’ Hugh Carstairs’ daughter ? 
. . . Jail!” 

“ Oh, John ! . . . But he’U maybe sell it to 
me.” 

“ Ye fool ! ” 

Presently she sai(^ “ Sit down, dearie, and 
try a cup o’ tea. I’ve made it fresh for ye.” 

He went on pacing. “ And what about Sym- 
ington ? ” 

“If ye were to tell him the truth, may- 
be ” 

“ Ye fool ! ” 

“ But I was thinking,” she said meekly, “ he 
might help ye for his own sake.” 

“ The only way he can help me is to marry 
your niece within the three months, getting her 
promise at once, of course. But ” 

“ Something maybe happened in the train 
last night,” she ventured. “ Ye’ll be hearing 
from him in the morning.” 

“ I wonder,” he said slowly, “ where she got 
the money to gang to London wi’.” 

The woman’s hand went to her flat breast. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


91 


“ Jolm, did she no’ take it from the post office, 
as ye said ? ” 

Ko,” was the suUen answer. 

“ Oh, John, John ! . . . But ye’ve enough to 
bear now without me reproaching ye.” After a 
pause she continued : “ She’ll ha’ to send Sam 
her address afore he can do anything wi’ the 
letter.” 

“ Aye ; but they’re no’ such fools as to com- 
municate wi’ each other through this oflSce.” 

She sighed helplessly. 

“ There’s somebody in the ofiSce,” he said 
suddenly. “ I’U ” 

“ Let me,” she interposed ; “ ye’re no’ fit. 

Take your tea till I come back.” 

She was absent several minutes, and on her 
return she was cheered by seeing him at the table 
and the cup empty. 

“ Who was it, and what were ye doing in the 
shop ? ” he asked, more from habit than interest, 

“ It was Mr. Hayward ” 

‘‘ Him ! What was he wanting ? ” 

“ A notebook, and he was terrible particular 
about the size. He had a piece o’ paper with 
the measurements wrote on it.” 

“ Ye wouldna find anything fine enough to 
suit him.” 


92 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ But I did. There was one left o’ the half- 
dozen that ye got once for Mr, Symington. He 
said it was the very thing. . . . Could ye no’ 
eat something ? ” 

He was brooding again, and minutes passed 
ere he roused himself. 

“ That postman’s got me,” he muttered bit- 
terly, “ got me as never a man was got before. 
I’m cornered. He’ll hear from the girl to-morrow 
— they’ll ha’ planned about writing, ye can be 
sure — and then he’U get to work wi’ the letter, 
God ! I feel like making a bolt for it — ^but where 
can a man hide in these days o’ wireless telegrams 
and so forth.” All at once he turned on her 
snarling : “ What for did ye interfere wi’ my 
private affairs ” 

She winced and shuddered. “ The Lord kens 
I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “ And He kens I 
would do anything to help ye now. John, is 
there anything I can do ? ” 

“ Aye,” he replied with a dreadful ironic laugh, 
“ ye can burn the cursed letter ! ” 

Gaping, she gazed at him. What did he mean ? 

“ Only, ye would likewise need to burn the 
postman’s house over his head, and that within 
the next twelve hours.” The laugh came again 
and died into silence. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


9a 


The woman’s face lost its fooUsh. laxness ; she 
seemed to stiffen aU over. And suddenly she 
screamed — 

“ I’ll do it. . . . John, I’U do it for your 
sake ! ” 

“ What ? ” he shouted, and started to his feet. 

She staggered, recovered, and rushed from the 
kitchen. Wken he followed he found that she 
had locked herself in her own room. 

He passed into the dim shop and sat down. 

“ Did she mean it ? ” he asked of the shadows. 
And later — “ Better her than me, for who 
would ever suspect her ? ” 

It was evening when she came out. She went 
about her accustomed duties, but her countenance 
was grey and stony, and she was as one stricken 
dmnb. And he, being afraid to ask a certain 
question and incapable of thiuking of aught else, 
was dumb also. They retired at the usual hour 
of ten. 


OHAPTEE X 


C OLIX’S change of mind with respect to the 
hundred pounds had taken place within 
the hour following his proud refusal. The thought 
of Kitty’s position in the event of a scandal was 
too much for him. Dependent on the Corries, 
practically a prisoner in Dunford, the sensitive 
girl would-be bound to suffer terribly — and all 
on account of himself. And so he had gone 
downstairs, miserable enough, but prepared to 
tell his father that he would take the money after 
all, prepared also for humiliation. But, as we 
know, he was spared the latter. It should be 
added that he did not for an instant doubt that the 
notes had been deliberately left on the writing- 
table. His father was not the man to be careless 
where money was concerned. 

Well, he would send the notes to Kitty in such 
a way that she could not suspect him. A hundred 
pounds would give her a certain independence 
94 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


95 


and power whatever happened ; they would open 
a way of escape if the need for that became urgent. 
Colin did not ignore the possibility of her gping 
to London, but he honestly strove to extinguish 
the hope of meeting her there. Had she not told 
him frankly that she did not love him,' and what 
was his worldly state that he should dare to 
dream of any girl as his own ? As an honourable 
man he must go his own way and endeavour to 
forget those sweet stolen hours in the woods 
around Bunford. 

It is not to be assumed that Colin arrived in 
London penniless. To be precise, he possessed 
the sum of £15 Is. Id, but whether such a con- 
siderable sum gives a young man a better start 
than the proverbial half-crown may be left open 
to question. With only thirty pence in his 
pocket a man dare not pause to pick and choose, 
and perhaps that is the real secret of the success 
of the half-crown adventurers — ^if they ever 
really existed. 

Colin had plenty of acquaintances, not to men- 
tion sundry relations in London, but he had no 
desire to see them in his present circumstances, 
nor did he imagine they would be rejoiced to see 
him. Most of us can be quite kind to the failure, 
but few of us can sincerely sympathize with him, 


96 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


especially when we conceive him to be a fool as 
well. 

London held but one man whom Colin desired 
to meet. This was Anthony West, a friend of 
his earlier student days. West, who was several 
years the senior, had been a failure, too ; that is 
to say, he had stuck in the midst of his science 
course, wriggled for a while between paternal 
wishes and personal inclination, and been cap- 
tured finally by the latter. A writer of clever 
prose trifies and dainty verse, he had plunged 
into journalism. The friends had not met since 
then, and their correspondence had gradually 
ceased. West’s last letter had been written two 
years ago. 

To the address on it Colin went on the morning 
of his arrival. Mr. West, the landlady informed 
him, had left a long tirne ago ; she had no other 
information to give. Cohn, after recourse to the 
Directory, journeyed to a court off Fleet Street, 
made some inquiries, entered a doorway of grimy 
and forbidding appearance, ascended three flights 
of steep and narrow stairs, and tapped at a door 
that had seen better days. A shout bade him 
enter, and he advanced into the London office — 
or part of it — of a provincial evening paper, and 
the presence of his friend who, bowed and scrib- 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


97 


bUng at a decrepit desk, took no notice of hina. 
A more dismal and dusty little room CoUn bad 
never been in. Poor old West bad evidently 
failed again. His heart was sinking fast when 
tbe scribbler turned, stared and recognized bim. 

“ WeU, tbis is good ! ” cried West. “ Sit 
down ! ” Prom a broken easy cbair be swept a 
pile of newspapers and a dozen or so books for 
review. “ Here, take a cigarette, and give me 
ten minutes to finish tbis.” Tbe scribbbng was 
resumed, with tbe remark — Greek to Colin : “ It’s 
those dashed Zeniths — started booming again 
tbis morning.” 

At tbe end of seven minutes be sat up, rang 
tbe bell, and swimg round towards bis visitor. 

“ Talk ! ” be said, wiping bis brow with one 
hand, and tapping a cigarette on tbe desk with 
tbe other. 

A boy dashed in, grabbed tbe scribbled sheets, 
and fled. 

“ Do you still write verses ? ” asked Colin 
involuntarily. 

West exploded with amusement. “ So that’s 
how it strikes you ! Yes, I do — ^not here — ^but 
never mind me — what are you doing in London ? ” 

“ Kotbing,” was tbe truthful enough answer. 

West’s gaze was kindly. 


98 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“Go on ! Something tells me you are in a 
hole, and if I can do anything to help ” 

“ Thanks, Anthony. I see you haven’t 
changed,” said Colin gratefully. “ I’ll tell you 
all about it, for I need advice badly.” And with 
commendable brevity he gave his friend an outline 
of his affairs. 

After he had ended the other remained silent, 
a brooding look on his tired, rugged, honest face, 
for nearly a minute. He spoke abruptly, but 
gently. 

“ What do you want to do ? ” 

“ Anything.” 

“ H’m ! What can you do ? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Oh, it can’t be so bad as all that, Colin ! Do 
anything in the way of writing nowadays f ” 

Colin flushed. 

“ Haven’t touched it for a year. You see, I 
did make an attempt to please the governor.” 

“ And before that ? ” 

“ Had a few small things accepted here and 
there, locally, you know.” 

Anthony sighed. “ I broke forcibly away from 
the uncongenial myself,” he said, “ so my sym- 
pathy is genuine. But it didn’t mean faUing 
into clover. I’m here from seven to twelve six days 


KITTY CAESTAIRS 


99 


a week doing things I hate, and earning some 
money. For the rest of the day I’m free — and 
sometimes my brains are free, too — to do things 
I Uke, which, however, seldom earn anything. 
My income is about four pounds a week, and it 
might stop any week. I’m telling you these 
things, Colin, not to discourage you, but simply 
to prepare you ” 

“ But four pounds a week is rather good,” said 
Cohn. 

“ So I thought when I was a student, living 
at the cost of my father. Why, now, I could 
easily spend it all on books alone.” 

Are — are you married ? ” Colin ventured. 

“ Ko . . . I’m not complaining, you know. 
Four quid is doubtless as much as I deserve, but 
I’d hke to be able to look forward to something 
bigger — only I daren’t hope. If I were you, 
Cohn, I’d leave writing — ^journalism or the other 
thing — for a last resort. , Take a look round and 
see what you can see. I suppose you have some 
stuff to go on with.” 

“ About fifteen pounds.” 

Anthony frowned. “ That doesn’t give you 
much rope. Of course. I’ll be deUghted ” 

“ Please ! ” interrupted Cohn. 

“ All right. But I’ll take it unkindly if you 


100 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


get stuck without letting me know. In spite of 
my groans I’ve always a bit to spare — at least 
nearly always.” He looked at his watch. “ Five 
minutes yet.” For a little while he was gloomily 
silent, then his face lightened. “ I’ll teU you 
what I’ll do. I’ll give you a note to a man who 
is interested, finaneially and otherwise, in many 
things. He might find you an opening some- 
where. I once was able to do him a small service, 
and he has a long memory. . . . Let me see ! 
This is Friday, and he doesn’t come to the City. 
Stni, I believe he’ll see you at his house — say, 
about four o’clock.” 

Anthony shook his pen and scribbled a few 
lines, folded the sheet, and put it in an envelope, 
which he addressed to — 

“ John Eisk, Esq., 

“ 83 Aberdare Mansions, W.” 

Handing over the letter he said : “ You may 
find him cool at first ; he is seldom anything else. 
Coolness seems to run in his family. But what- 
ever you are, be frank with him. Come and see 
me to-night and report. There’s my address. 
I’ll have a chop for you at seven — and a bed if 
you’ll stay. And now ” — ^he held out his hand — 
“ good luck ! ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


101 


Coliii went out with a full heart. What a 
wonderful thing was friendship ? 

At foiu’ to the minute he presented himself 
at 83 Aberdare Mansions. He was evidently 
expected — it was Like Anthony to have ’phoned — 
for the servant on hearing his name conducted 
him at once to a beautifully appointed study. 

The servant placed a chair and retired. The 
tall man who had risen from the writing-table 
took West’s note, saying courteously, “ Be seated, 
Mr. Hayward.” He sat down himself and read 
the note, then said quietly — 

“ Mr. West has the right to ask what he will of 
me, and it appears that you are his worthy friend. 
Win you be good enough to tell me what you care 
to tell about yourself, Mr. Hayward ? ” 

It was a less easy matter in the face of this 
calm, urbane stranger than it had been with 
Anthony for listener to render a succinct account 
of himself, but. Cohn omitted nothing, however 
unflattering to himself. 

Mr. Eisk offered no comment, but he asked 
one or two questions, which seemed to Colin 
rather idle, and then feU silent and reflective. 
Suddenly he said : “Do you trust me ? ” 
With some hesitation, but without the least 
dubiety Colin answered : “ Certainly, Mr. Eisk.” 


102 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ Then I will trust you,” said Eisk in his matter 
of-fact voice. “ I am going to give you a trial,” 
he went on, “ and in the circumstances it is, I 
admit, a rather curious one. You have, of course, 
the option of refusing, but if you accept, kindly 
let it be done on the understanding that you will 
obey my instructions implicitly. Please under- 
stand, also, that the fact of your coming from a 
place called Dunford, while it forms an odd coin- 
cidence, and may be a help, has nothing to do 
with my choosing you for this particular piece 
of work. I would have asked you to perform it 
just tbe same had you come from the Isle of Man. 
Well, now” — ^he paused for a moment — “I have 
a letter here which I wish to be delivered first 
thing in the morning to Mr. Alexander Symington, 
White Farm, Dunford ” 

Colin checked words at his very lips. 

“ A train leaves King’s Cross at 5.45, and 
though it does not usually stop at Dunford, I 
have arranged that it shall do. so for you shortly 
after 1 a.m. I hope you may be able to find some 
sort of shelter until 6, when you will deliver the 
letter. You will bring back an answer by the 
first train possible and report to me here. By 
the way, you are, perhaps, acquainted with Mr. 
Symington ? ” 


KITTY CAESTAIE8 


lOS 

“ Very slightly.” 

“ Like him ? ” 

Colin smiled faintly. “ Can’t say I do.” 

“ He is quite unknown to me,” the other pro- 
ceeded. “ I am curious to know, however, just 
how he looks when he reads this letter, and you 
must try to manage that for me. Here is the 
letter. There is no need for me to make a mystery 
of it — a simple business question.” 

The letter was typed on a large sheet bearing 
the heading “ The Zenith Gold Mining Company, 
Limited,” and ran as follows — 

“ Dear Sir, — 

“ We have your letter of yesterday’s date 
covering the Certificate (Bearer) for 500 shares, 
Kos. 23501 to 24600, which you desire to have 
converted into five certificates for 100 shares 
each. This is having our attention. Meantime, 
will you kindly inform us at what date, as nearly 
as possible, you purchased the shares numbered 
as above.” 

It was signed by the Secretary of the Com- 
pany. 

Cohn handed it back, remarking : “It seems 
a simple enough matter, Mr. Eisk.” 


104 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ I hope so. Kow, are you prepared to go 
through with it ? ” 

“ Certaiuly.” 

“ Good ! You are not likely to encounter your 
friends at so early an hour.” 

“ It doesn’t matter if I do. I’m not under a 
very black cloud, you know.” 

“ Still, you are not keen on the job.” 

“ I’m keen on carrying it through.” 

Eisk nodded as much as to say : “ That’s the 
right spirit,” and laid a couple of bank-notes on 
the table. 

“ For your expenses,” he said, and added a 
few instructions. “ Mr. West shall be advised 
that you are leaving town, so you don’t need 
to trouble about your engagement with him. 
I’ll look for you to-morrow evening.” 

Eeahzing that the interview was at an end, 
Colin rose. 

“ I’ll do my best, Mr. Eisk.” 

“ I expect that of you, Mr. Hayward,” said the 
other, ringing the beU. 

At the gate of the lift Colin stood aside to allow 
a lady to emerge. Their eyes met for an instant, 
and he noticed that hers were unusually luminous 
and wide-set. Then his mind went back to the 
business on hand. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


105 


“ Hullo ! ” said Mr. Eisk as Ms sister came 
in. “ Hope I didn’t interrupt your muse in its 
description of some poor wretch’s wedding gar- 
ments ” 

“You did ! The only amends you can make 
is to ring for tea and teU me why you wired for 
me.” 

“ To give you tea perhaps,” he said, pressing a 
button. 

“ Come, John ! What do you want with me ? ” 

“ Who is Miss Carstairs ? ” 

Hilda sat up. “ She’s a friend of mine ” 

“ Hew ? ” 

“ Well, she is — ^but why do you ask ? ” 

“ Tell me what you know about her,” he said 
seriously. 

“ I’m afraid I can’t, John,” she replied, after 
a moment. “ I’m under promise not to repeat 
what she told me.” 

“ That’s a pity. WTiere did you meet her ? 
Glasgow ? ” 

“ Ko — on the train, last night.” 

“ Can’t you tell me where she came from ? ” 

“ I think I may tell you that much. Dimford 
is the name of the village.” 

“ Dear me ! Dunford seems to be enaigrating 
to London ! ” 


106 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ What do you mean, John ? ” 

“ Nothing for you, Hilda. Did she mention 
her father ? ” 

“ She told me he was dead. He was a jour- 
nalist. They used to Uve in Glasgow. I had better 
not say more.” 

“ Thanks, you’ve told me all I want to know 
about Miss Carstairs — for the present. Now 
what can you tell me about the mysterious Mr. 
Symington, whose head you instructed me to 
punch on his calling here % ” 

“ Oh, has he been % ” she exclaimed. 

“ Patience ! I may be wrong, but I fancy he 
is still in Dunford. In fact, I’ve just dispatched 
a messenger ” 

“ Nonsense ! The man’s in London — or was 
this morning ! ” 

“ Indeed ! Why didn’t you say so this morn- 
ing ? ” Eisk asked without irritation. 

“ I thought that you would understand that 
he was — was after us.” 

“ My dear girl, I don’t wish to belittle your 
attractions, or Miss Carstairs’, but I wish you had 
been more explicit at the time. I merely thought 
that m the course of one of your escapades you 
had favoured an objectionable person with your 
brother’s address instead of your own — an ad- 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


107 


mirable expedient I admit — ^but I had not thought 
of the person being bn your very heels, as it were.” 

“ But what do you know of him ? ” she asked, 
looking puzzled. 

“ The Zenith secretary sent me a letter this 
morning which had come from a Mr. Symington, 
of Dunford, and now you have strengthened my 
suspicion induced by the letter that he is also 
the objectionable person. Of course, there may 
be another Mr. Symington in Dunford, so I’ll let 
my messenger go ahead. It will be good training 
for him anyway — test his discretion and so on. 
What does Miss Carstairs say about Symington ? ” 

“ I can’t tell you.” 

“ Has she naentioned a Mr. Hayward — Cohn 
Hayward ? ” 

“ No.” 

Just then the servant brought tea. When he 
had retired, Hilda said — 

“ John, do tell me what it ah means.” 

He looked at her gravely. “ I don’t know 
yet. It may all mean nothing of any consequence. 
On the other hand it may mean something of 
considerable importance.” 

“ To you ? ” 

“ To your new friend. Now hold your tongue, 
and pour out.” 


t 


OHAPTEE XI 


I X the darkness of the hour preceding dawn^ 
John Corrie, fully dressed, lay on his bed 
listening. The sound he had been dreading yet 
yearnmg for had come at last. His sister was 
moving in the room above. The atmosphere 
was sultry, yet the man shivered. Was Eachel 
about to attempt the deed that might save him, 
or was she only restlessly repenting of her wild 
promise ? If the former, should he stop her, or 
let her take her self-appointed course ? One 
question led to another, but none got an answer. 

At last he was aware that she was cautiously 
opening her door. He did not move. He heard 
her come stealthily down the stair, pausmg after 
every creak. Presently he caught a glimpse of 
light under his door. It vanished, yet not so 
suddenly as though a candle had been blown out. 
She must have turned into the passage leading 
to the shop. What could she be wanting there 
at such an hour ? He pretended to hunseU that 
he could not guess. 

After a little while the light returned with her 
108 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


10 ^ 


footsteps. It remained in his vison during the 
short silence that ensued. The silence ended 
in a heavy sigh. John Corrie lay very still. 

The light went out. He heard her groping 
her way to the front door. He heard it open — 
close — softly. She was gone on her dark errand, 
and he had deliberately let her go. ISTothing he 
could ever do or suffer in this world would redeem 
his soul from that loathsome disgrace. But 
John Corrie was not thinking of his soul then. 

He sprang up, lit a candle and ran upstairs ; 
thence he peeped from a window. He was in 
time to see a cloaked figure fade into the misty 
murk. The cloak bulged at one side. What 
was she carrying in it concealed ? Again he 
pretended he could not guess. Eeturning down- 
stairs he pretended also not to feel the strong, 
rank odour of parafifin, nor to notice the drips on 
the passage from the shop. 

He returned to his bed, but now he kept the 
candle burning, for he was afraid of the darkness. 
And ere three minutes had passed, he rose, shaken 
with a new terror. What if the holder of the 
letter should, in spite of all, escape with it ? . . . 
For a moment he wavered on the verge of collapse, 
then the very terror itself stiffened his nerves,, 
cleared his mind, and drove him to action. 


H 


110 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


In an amazingly short time he was following 
the path taken by his sister. He wore no cloak, 
but both his side pockets bulged, and he carried 
a club-hke staff. He sped swiftly through the 
slumbering village. He was sweating and shiver- 
ing, and once his whole being leapt as if jerked 
at the whistle of a distant train. He did not 
intend to overtake Eachel ; she must do her 
work deeming herself unobserved ; yet he did not 
wish to be far behind her. Clear of the village, 
he began to trot on the grass at the side of the 
road. 

Years ago a sanguine and enterprising indi- 
vidual had caused to be erected by the roadside, 
midway between station and village, a superior 
sort of timber shanty, and had labelled it “ Cy- 
clists’ Eest — Temperance Eefreshments.” There 
were plenty of cyclists in the summer, and numer- 
ous pedestrians also, but somehow few of them 
seemed to be tired or thirsty ; and at the end 
of the second season the sanguine and enterpris- 
ing individual departed, unseen by human eye, 
leaving a small selection of aerated waters in 
the refreshment-room and sundry little debts 
for lodging and so forth in the village. Eventu- 
ally the building fell to the only bidder, Sam, the 
postman, who converted it into two apartments. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


111 


and a fairly snug home of which he was inclined 
to be proud. 

A mere strip of garden separated the house from 
the road, but Sam kept it bright with flowers for 
eight months of the year. The front of the house 
was painted a pale stone-colour ; the porch, 
the door, and the two quartets of tall, extremely 
narrow windows were coloured white. Altogether 
it provided a gay relief from the sober moorland 
behind it. Across the road, and separated from 
it by a deep ditch usually dry in summer, lay a 
strip of moor gently sloping upwards to the wood, 
through which a path supplied a short cut from 
the station to the village. There was no other 
dwelling within five minutes’ walk. 

When John Corrie’s eyes began dimly to dis- 
cern the house he slowed his pace till he was 
stealing forward with every appearance of caution 
and alertness. Suddenly he stopped short, 
dropped on hands and knees, and let himself 
down into the ditch where he crouched, holding 
his breath. 

A vague figure was coming hurriedly from 
behind the house. On reaching the road it broke 
into a shambling run, its dark garment flapping 
like the wings of some huge night bird. As it 
passed the lurking watcher it panted and sobbed. 


112 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Presently it disappeared round a bend, and the 
watcher heaved a sigh of angry relief. That was 
the worst of women : they could do nothing with- 
out making a fuss ! 

He drew himself from the ditch, and now his 
head and most of his face were covered with a 
heavy black muffler. Keeping to the grass, he 
darted towards the house. Opposite it, he halted 
for a moment, almost overcome by the thudding 
of his heart. Just then he perceived a thin smoke 
rising from the rear of the house — from the at- 
tached shed ; he guessed that contained the 
postman’s store of coal and wood. That nerved 
him again. It was now or never. 

Dropping his bludgeon, he brought from his 
pocket a hank of thin, strong rope, shook it out 
and tip-toed across the road. He was about to 
fasten one end to the door handle with the view 
to securing it to a pillar of the porch, when he 
bethought himself of another, though barely 
possible way. With fearful care he turned the 
handle — and lo, the door gave ! Chance had 
favoured him ! Sam had forgotten to lock it — 
not for the first time. 

Sweating, John Corrie opened the door about 
a foot, put round his hand and removed the key 
from the lock. Then with infinite gentleness he 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


113 


drew the door shut, inserted the key, turned it 
and withdrew it. Almost fainting he recrossed 
the road, took up his staff, and fell rather than 
descended into the ditch. 

A faint breeze was stirring at last. Smoke 
blown over the tarred roof of the shanty drifted 
to his nostrils. For a while, fingering the key, 
he seemed to hesitate ; then, turning, he tossed 
it from him among the heather. The rope he 
coiled up and let fall at his feet. He crouched, 
staring at the house. 

And presently a spark floated up, hovered 
and died. But others followed, thicker and 
thicker, and a glow appeared under them. Crack- 
ling sounds broke the silence, softly, timidly at 
first, but soon with noisy boldness. The breeze 
gained in strength. A fiery tongue waved above 
the roof, subsided, rose again and licked the 
tarry rarface ; ere long it was joined by others. 
A low roaring mingled with the crackling. The 
narrow windows were still dark, but smoke began 
to stream from the ventilator over the door. 
Woe to the sleeper if he did not waken now ! 

Cold with terror, fascinated by horror, Corrie 
knelt in his lair and gazed and gazed. Suddenly 
a Light sprang into being in the room on the left 
— a small light that lasted but a moment. The 


114 


KITTY OAESTAIRS 


sleeper had wakened and struck a match. Corrie 
wondered if he would wait to light a candle, but 
in the next moment the windows went dark. 
Sounds followed : a cry, the noise of a chair 
overturned, hurried footfalls on a bare plank 
floor. Then Corrie put his hands under the 
muffler and thrust his fingers in his ears. For 
the inmate was trying to open the door. 

The flames were now rising high above the 
roof ; smoke was pouring from the ventilator, 
trickling from imder the door and through crevices 
about the windows and walls. A reddish glow 
behind the windows on the left caused the watcher 
to shut his eyes. But he could no longer close 
his ears to agony, for the prisoner was raining 
blows with some heavy implement on the door 
and lock. Once more Corrie was roused to action. 
What if the holder of the letter should escape 
with it after all ? He readjusted the black 
muffler about his head till little more than hig 
eyes remained uncovered, took a fresh grip on 
his staff, and held himself in readiness. The 
blows became frantic. 

Up yonder in the wood, Cohn Hayward, fagged 
with the long railway journey and much thinking, 
had thrown himself down to await the morning. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


116 


He was almost asleep when the sound of knocking 
made him raise his head from his arms. As he 
did so he became conscious of a strong smell of 
burning timber. The sound, coupled with the 
odour, struck him as odd at that hour. He got 
up and crossed the few yards which lay between 
him and the verge of the wood. From there he 
looked down on fire and smoke, and quickly 
realized that the burning thing was the abode of 
his old friend Sam, the postman. He descended 
the slope as swiftly as the darkness, the treacher- 
ous ground, and the slippery heather permitted. 

At last the lock was shattered, the door torn 
inwards. The hatchet fell from Sam’s hand as, 
spent and coughing most grievously, he staggered 
forth to reel across the road, bare-footed, in a 
long grey night-shirt. At the grass he stumbled 
and fell helplessly, in the heaving torment of 
smoke-charged lungs. 

He was beginning to revive, when behind him, 
rising from hands and knees, John Corrie clubbed 
him over the head — once — twice — and would 
have struck again but that there was no need. 
Sam lay on his face, one hand clutching grass, 
the other under him, clenched against his breast. 
With a sob of terror, Corrie threw his cudgel into 
the ditch and turned his victim over. And now 


116 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


the back of the house was well ablaze, and in the 
yellow light even small things became plain. 
The clenched hand, for instance, held a crushed 
piece of paper — the little, terrible thing, the 
recovery of which meant salvation to Oorrie. He 
went down on his knees to prize open the grasping 
fingers, but they fell apart of their own accord. 
He took the letter. He gloated over it. The 
latter proceeding was folly ; his moment of exul- 
tation was to cost him dear. Hearing dulled by 
excitement and the thick rhuffier did not warn 
him until too late. He scrambled to his feet 
only to be seized viciously from behind by the 
collar and shaken like a rat. Then a cruel grip 
on his wrist caused hiih to drop the precious 
letter,’ and a savage kick sent him five yards 
beyond it on his face. 

“ You beastly coward ! ” cried a voice he knew, 
and all panic-stricken he picked himself up and fled. 

Colin had started to pursue, when a groan 
from the stricken one recalled him. He picked 
up the letter, deeming that it must be of impor- 
tance, stuffed it into his pocket, and proceeded 
to do what he could for Sam. Perhaps, after all, 
his student days had not been wholly wasted. 
But Sam was sore hurt. His home was, a fiery 
furnace, and he neither knew nor cared. J 


CHAPTEE XII 


X the following afternoon Kitty and her 



new friend were lounging in the latter’s 
sitting-room, one of the four apartments of a 
little, old-fashioned, top flat in Long Acre. The 
situation of Miss Eisk’s home had its drawbacks, 
but it was a most conyenient one for her business, 
and she had given the house itself a charm and 
comfort not to be despised. 

‘‘ But I can’t go on being your guest indefi- 
nitely,” Kitty was saying from her seat at the 
open window. 

Hilda, stretched on the couch, smiled and then 
yawned. She had had a hard rdorning’s work, 
and the heat was oppressive. 

‘‘You have been here for about thirty hours,” 
she returned in a lazy voice. “ Don’t say it 
seems like years.” 

“ Oh, you know what I mean. Miss Eisk ” 

“ I think you might* call me by my pretty 
name.” 


117 


118 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ I’d like to,” said Eatty diffidently, “ but ” 

“ I believe you’re afraid of me, Kitty ! ” 

“ I’m not really, but ” 

“ If you say ‘ but ’ again. I’ll go to sleep ! 
Kow listen, Kitty ! You bave told me a good 
many things about yourself, so you can no longer 
argue that I know nothing about you. I know 
far more about you than you know about me. 
Isn’t that so ? ” 

“ Perhaps it is. Miss — Hilda.” 

“ Well, then, if you keep talking about leaving 
me, the only conclusion I can draw is that you 

don’t Uke staying with me ” 

“ Oh, no, no ! ” 

“ — or that you are absurdly proud.” 

Kitty hung her head. 

Hilda gave a little nod of understanding. 

“ Kitty,” she said kindly, “ won’t you trust 
me and let me protect you ? I’ve never had 
any one to protect except myself. Come and 
sit beside me.” 

The younger girl came slowly over to the 
couch, faltered, and feU on her knees, crying — 
“ And no one has ever protected me, or wanted 
to do it, before.” 

Hilda took her in her arms — strong shapely 
arms they were. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


119 


Poor little soul ! ” she whispered ; can’t 
you see not only that I want you to stay here^ 
but that for your own safety’s sake you must 
stay here until, at least, you know something of 
London, and have found employment and made 
friends ? When aU that has happened, you shall 
be free to choose as you think best, but till then 
you’re my prisoner, whether you like it or not ! ” 
After a httle while Kitty said tremulously, 
‘‘ Don’t be offended, Hilda, but — but if only you 
would allow me to — to pay my share.” 

“ Well,” answered Miss Eisk in a most busi- 
ness-like tone, assumed mainly to satisfy the 
other, ‘‘ we may come to terms later on — if you 
promise now to be my guest for a month.” 

“ I never knew there was a girl Like you in the 
world ! ” 

‘‘ Ko more there is ! ” said Hilda cheerfully. 

‘‘ I never dreamed I was such a coward till 
that night ” 

‘‘You mislaid your courage — that was all — 
but you’ll find it again presently, and look here, 
Kitty ! Until my brother finds something for 

you to do- ” 

“ Oh, is he going to try ? ” 

“ John never tries— at least he never seems 
to ; he just does. But never mind about that 


120 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


now. I was going to say that you can help me a 
bit, if you feel so disposed.” 

“ How ? Tell me quick ! ” 

“ You used to type for your father, didn’t 
you ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ! I must show you the work I did 
for him. I believe I was fairly smart, but after 

five years, I’m afraid^ ” 

“ You’ll knock off the rust in no time. You 
can work away on my old machine most mornings, 
and when you feel it coming easy I’ll give you 
plenty of manuscript, my own and other people’s, 
too, if you want it. How’s that ? ” 

“ AU the difference in the world, for it means 
I shan’t be entirely useless. Oh, you have made 
me so happy ! ” 

“ Go on ! ” laughed Hilda. “ I like being 
cuddled ! ” But there were tears in her eyes. 
Goodness ! ” she exclaimed next moment, 
there’s somebody coming up Jacob’s Ladder ! ” 
— as she designated the steep and narrow wooden 
staircase leading to the fiat. “ A man, I should 
say, from the tread. Shall we fiee and tidy 
ourselves, or simply draw down the sun blind ? ” 
She rose and went to the window. “ It must be 
the blind, I’m afraid. Matilda is unusually alert 
in answering the door to-day. Don’t be alarmed, 


KITTY CAESTAIKS 


121 


Kitty. I’ve no friends who aren’t nice, and I 
want you to meet them all sooner or later. Now 
let’s arrange ourselves at our ease, and hope it 
may be a particularly nice one to begin with.” 

Kitty was smiling despite her nervousness 
when the elderly servant, whom Hilda’s brother 
insisted on her retaining, announced Mr. West.” 

It was at once evident to Kitty that he and 
Hilda were the best of friends. Next moment 
he was introduced to her, and there was some- 
thing in his handshake as well as in his eyes that 
took away half her shyness. 

‘‘ Miss Carstairs has come from Scotland to 
spend a little time with me,” Hilda said pre- 
sently, ‘‘ so you must give her as good an im- 
pression of the journalistic life as you can.” 

‘‘You are not in the trade, I hope. Miss Car- 
stairs ? ” he said, with a faint smile ; then, sud- 
denly — “ But pardon me, perhaps you are a 
friend of Hugh Carstairs, of Glasgow, who wrote 
so brilliantly some years ago. I met him once in 
a friend’s house just before I came to London.” 

“ He was my father,” Kitty said softly, with a 
flush of pleasure. 

“ Then you and I shall have at least one big 
subject in common,” he said warmly. 

“ This is splendid ! ” said Hilda, smiling. 


122 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ Mr, Oarstairs was my ideal journalist,” 
Anthony went on. “ I’ve often wondered why 
he never wrote books. Perhaps he hadn’t the 
time ” 

“ Miss Oarstairs has just been telling me,” said 
the hostess, “ that she has in her possession 
several unfinished works of her father’s ” 

“ Not here ? not in London ? ” he cried eagerly. 

“ Yes,” said Kitty timidly, “ I have them with 
me. There are several — one a play.” 

“ Would it be too much,” Anthony began and 
halted. 

“ Mr. West means that he would hke to read 
them,” Hilda remarked. “ I think you might 
trust him,” she added, with a glint of amusement. 
“ Eeally, Anthony, I never saw you so enthu- 
siastic before ! ” 

“ Wait, Hilda, until I give you some cuttings 
of Hugh Oarstairs’ articles to read. And you. 
Miss Oarstairs, perhaps, when you know me 
better, you will allow me to look at the unfinished 
works.” 

At this point Matilda brought in tea, and the 
conversation became less personal. Kitty was 
weU content to listen. She was more than in- 
terested. The five years of barren drudgery in 
Dunford were forgotten. She was Uving in a 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


123 


new world, the world of her girlish dreams during 
the last year of her father’s life, the world he 
had promised he would show her — some day — 
when his ship came home. . . . And Hilda 
Eisk, guessing what it meant to the girl, kept 
West talking of people and things in his pro- 
fession, till with a start he noticed the hour, and 
rose to go. 

Hilda went with him to the door. She had 
a question to ask. 

“ Anthony,” she said, “ it’s not Uke you to 
gush. Did you really admire her father’s work 
so much ? ” 

“ Honestly, Hilda. Why, the man was a 
genius, though I’m afraid he didn’t make the 
most of himself. Possibly your brother has not 
mentioned that he knew Carstairs well.” 

“ John ! He never told me ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ As a matter of fact,” he added. “ John 
requested me to call on you this afternoon.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ You’re not annoyed, Hilda ? ” , he asked 
rather anxiously. 

“ Of course not ! ” she smiled. “ And I ought 
not to be surprised at this time of day at any- 
thing John does. I suppose -he wanted your 
impression of Kitty ? ” 


124 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ I think he wanted to be made absolutely 
certain that she is the daughter of Hugh Carstairs. 
I was not to make any other inquiries of her. 
But, as you know, there isn’t much profit in 
asking John his reasons.” 

“ I do know — and we’ll leave it at that. And 
I’U not ask you what you think of Kitty — ^yet. 
Come soon again and make her better acquaint- 
ance. She is very sweet, and she will be bright, 
too, once she gets a chance. . . . Working as 
hard as ever, I suppose ? ” she said, as he took 
her hand for a moment. 

He smiled a little sadly. “ Will you allow me 
to take you and Miss Carstairs to the theatre one 
night soon ? ” he said. 

“ Thank you ; that will be a treat for us both, 
Anthony.” 

“I’d lik^ to introduce a friend* of mine who has 
just turned up in London — Cohn Hayward. 
Your brother ” 

“ Why, John mentioned him yesterday ! ” 

“ Then may I bring him ? ” 

“ Surely.” 

“ Tfil then, good-bye.” 

Hilda returned to the sitting-room to find a 
new Kitty, all dehght and eagerness. 

“ Please teU me what he writes ? ” she asked, 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


125 


almost sure that Mr. West was her friend’s 
lover. 

“ He writes beautiful things that don’t sell,” 
Hilda replied a trifle bitterly, “ and he makes a 
poor but decent hving from a wretched provincial 
paper. And,” she continued with a change of 
tone, “ there isn’t a better man on this earth — 
nor a prouder. I’m teUing you this, Kitty, 
because you are likely to meet him pretty often. 
He has refused a post worth £1,500 a year offered 
him by my brother.” 

“ Oh, why ? ” 

“ Because at Cromer, four years ago, he saved 
me from drowning, and he refuses to be paid for 
that. There’s pride for you ! ” 

“ Isn’t it more than pride ? ” Kitty softly 
ventured. 

Miss Eisk passed to the window and drew up 
the blind, remarkiug : “ He is going to take us 
to the theatre one night soon.” 

Kitty clasped her hands in rapture. “ I seem 
to have come into Heaven ! ” 

The other laughed. “ By the way, he has a 
great friend who hails from your part of the 
world, Kitty. Mr. Cohn Hayward ” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Kitty. 

“ You know him ? ” 

I 


126 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ Yes.” 

“ Hot another villain, I hope ! ” 

“ Oh, no.” 

“ You would not mind if Mr. West brought him 
here ? ” 

“ Indeed, no,” said Kitty, angry with herself 
for blushing. It was so silly, especially as she 
was not in love with Cohn. 

Hilda did not pursue the subject. Their friend- 
ship, she felt, was stiU far too new for the taking 
of liberties, however kindly. After a pause — 

“ Have you decided,” she inquired, “ about 
letting your aunt know your address ? I wish I 
could advise you, but I simply don’t know what 
to say about it.” 

Kitty sighed. “ I think I’ll wait for another 
day. If I could only let her know without my 
imcle learning it.” 

“ He can’t hurt you now.” 

“ I wonder,” murmured Kitty, with another 
sigh. 

“ Oh, this won’t do ! Mustn’t get into the 
dumps again ! Leave it till to-morrow, as you 
say. How do you feel about a walk before 
dinner ? ” 

“ I’d love it ! And please, Hilda ? ” 

“ Go on, Kitty.” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


127 


“ Will you — will you help me to buy some 
decent clothes ? ” 

“ Hooray ! ” cried Miss Risk, “ that’s the 
proper spirit ! ” 

Matilda came in with a telegram for her mistress. 

“ Reply paid, Miss,” she said retiring ; “ boy’s 
waiting.” 

Hilda read the following : — 

“ Has your guest any recollection of hearing 
her father use the word zenith not in an astrono- 
mical sense ? — ^John.” 

“ My brother asks an extraordinary question,” 
said Hilda, and handed the message to Kitty. 

Kitty gazed at it, frowned and shook her head. 
Then — “ Oh, wait ! The answer to the question 
is ‘ Ko,’ but once, quite recently, I heard my 
uncle speak of Zeniths — ^not zenith. But why 
should Mr. Risk ” 

“ Don’t ask me ! I’ll just reply, ‘ Hot father 
but tmcle,’ ” said Hilda, going to the writing- 
table. 

And just then Matilda came in with another 
telegram. 

“ Goodness ! ” exclaimed Hilda, and with her 
pencil slit it open. Her gay expression faded 


128 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


out. She paled slightly, muttering, “ Another 
matter,” and tore it into little pieces. Then she 
went on with writing the reply. 

The torn telegram, which had been “ handed 
in ” at the same hour as its precursor, was also 
from her brother. It said — “ Take very good 
care of your guest. No going out alone. But 
don’t alarm her.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


J OHN COEEIE was now fairly in the net. 

He reached his cottage in a condition verging 
on coUapse, physical and mental, and slinking 
round to the back, gained admittance by the 
window of his own room, from which he had 
emerged an age, as it seemed, ago. He stood 
listening. ... Not a sound. What was his 
sister doing? He must see her at once — ^not to 
tell her anything, but to discover whether she 
had learned of his having been out of doors. 

But first he must remove traces of the outing. 
Having lit the candle, he got off his boots, and 
the black muffler. They must be got rid of. 

In stocking feet he stole to the shop, and there * 
made a parcel which he laid on a high shelf behind 
a row of tomato tins. In another part of the 
shop he hid his jacket in similar fashion. And 
then a most sickening thought struck him and 
almost wrecked his fear-tossed mind. The staff 
— ^Almighty ! what on earth had made him fling 

129 


130 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


it iQ the ditch ’ Sooner or later a search would 
be made ; might even be going on now ! Pre- 
sently, his month craving water, he went un- 
steadily, spilling candle-grease by the way, to the 
kitchen. 

And there he found his sister, in a heap on the 
floor. She was inert, but fully conscious. Some- 
how he managed to drag her up and place her 
in the arm-chair by the cold hearth. Then he 
got water, and gave her some, took a draught 
himself, and sat down by the table. On a sudden 
inspiration he blew out the candle. A wakeful, 
curious person naight wonder to see a light at 
such an hour. Besides . . . 

For perhaps twenty minutes the two wretched 
beings sat huddled in their chairs, motionless, 
speechless, while a feeble greyness began to Alter 
slowly through the darkness. Then- the woman 
spoke, neither to the man nor herself, but as to a 
third person, invisible, somewhere in the shadows. 

“ I hope he died quick. ... I hope he didna 
feel the fire. ... I did it for my brother’s sake. 
I promised mother I would look after him.” 

Oorrie rose and sat down again. He was not 
going to tell her that Sam had escaped the flames. 

There was another silence, and through it came 
the sound of a person running on the dry road. 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


131 


Presently the sound gave place to that of knoek- 
ing, then cries — shouts — ^more knocking — then 
running again — several persons — cries and shouts 
once more. . . . 

Through the greyness the man and woman 
peered at each other’s pallid countenances. And 
she was thinking of a little brother she had tended 
long, long ago ; and he was thinking of a elub- 
hke staff lying in a ditch. The scattered noises 
from the village grew to a commotion. Coriie 
dropped forward, his elbows on his knees, his face 
between his hands. 

Suddenly the woman got up and came over 
to him, and laid her hand on his shoulder, and 
said with a strange tenderness — 

“ Diima be feared, John. Ye’re safe. The 
letter’s bound to be ashes by now.” 

Then she shrieked, for the room was lit by a 
blinding flash, and she fell to her knees. Almost 
immediately the house shook xmder an appaUing 
crash. The long threatened storm had burst at 
last. 

There was a pause as though to allow Earth 
to take one long breath before the storm and 
deluge — ^which were, to prove memorable in Dun- 
'ford and district. 

Not many minutes had passed when something 


132 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


like hope came to John Corrie. Unless the staff 
were already discovered, he was safe so far as 
it was concerned, for now the ditch woxdd be 
rushing a foot deep. His wits began to work 
again. Even if young Hayward had picked up 
the letter. . . . 

He drew Eachel to her feet, saying shortly but 
-not harshly : “ Get to your bed, woman. I’m 
for out.” 

“ Out ! ” she echoed faintly. “ Would ye 
face the wrath o’ , God t ” 

“ I would face the folk, in case they wonder. 
Besides, ye canna be sure that — that he’s burnt 
wi’ the house.” 

“ Oh, God ! ” she whispered ; and a moment 
later — “John, bring me word he’s alive, and 
I’ll take oath it was me that stole the Zeniths ! ” 
She moved gropingly from the room. 

So Corrie, having put on his Sunday boots and 
oilskins, went out into the storm to face his 
fellows. He did not encounter his poor victim, 
who was already on the way, in a summer visitor’s 
motor-car, to the nearest hospital, twenty miles 
distant ; but he heard talk of concussion of the 
brain and a villainous-looking tramp seen in the 
village the previous night ; also he beheld the 
ruins of the shanty and the brimming ditch. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


133 


But for something white on the sodden grass he 
looked in vain ; and young Hayward, it seemed, 
had disappeared after doing what he could for 
the postman. 

It was nearing four when Corrie returned home. 
The storm had ceased, though fine rain still feU 
on torn-up roads, ruined crops and fiooded mea- 
dows. He told Eachel exactly what he had 
heard, and added a Uttle more. 

“ He was found by young Hayward. Sup- 
posing he had the letter in his hand when he was 
struck, where is it now ? ” 

She was too exhausted by the revulsion, too 
thankful, to think it out. 

“ If you’re in danger, John, I’ll take the blame,” 
she faltered. “ We’ll hope the letter was burned.” 

“ But if it’s not burned, what about Sym- 
ington ? ” 

“ He mun give back the shares.” 

“ Ye talk foolishness, Eachel ! ” 

“ I’m wearied. I canna grasp aught except 
that I didna commit black murder. Let me be 
till the morning.” 

Afraid to say more lest he should betray him- 
self, he let her go. 

At eight o’clock, the moment the wire was 
open, he sent a telegram to Symington — 


134 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ Come at once.” 

About eleven, Symington’s housekeeper, pur- 
chasing provisions, mentioned in the course oi her 
chatter on last night’s affair — ^the sole topic of 
conversation in Dunford — that young Mr. Hay- 
ward had called to see her employer at sis o’clock 
that morning. 

“ What was he wanting at such an hour ? ” 
Corrie managed to say. 

“ He didna name his business, but he took a 
note o’ the address in London.” 

This added to Corrie’s Tmeasiness, though he 
could conceive of no connexion between the early 
call and the letter. 

About an hour later, a customer casually re- 
ferred to his having observed young Hayward 
enter the morning trainYor the South, at Kenny 
Junction. At that Corrie weUnigh gave up. 
All morning he had hoped against hope that 
Hayward would return the letter to its owner — 
himself. How he was forced to face two dreadful 
possibilities : first, that Hayward had recognized 
him last night ; secondly, that Hayward knew 
Kitty’s address in London. And before long he 
perceived a third : namely, that Symington, elated 
by the enormous rise in Zeniths, might have been 
talking openly about his shares. Corrie felt 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


135 


like making a bolt for it. Vain to imagine mercy 
from Kitty after all that bad passed ! Only the 
idea that Hayward’s recognition wonld be a 
difficult thing to substantiate and the thought 
of his sister’s promise restrained and sustained 
him. 

He called Eaehel into the post office at a 
moment when no business was doing. They had 
scarcely spoken since three o’clock. 

“Do ye stand by what ye said about the — the 
shares ? ” he asked her, not without shame. 

“ Aye ; I’ve promised,” she answered duUy. 

“ They’d be easier on a woman than a man,” 
he observed, looking away. 

“ It doesna matter.” She turned to go back to 
the shop. 

“ Symington’U be here to-night,” he pursued. 
“ There ought to ha’ been a letter from him this 
morning, so I wired him. Maybe we’ll manage 
to put everything right yet. I wish we had 
your niece’s address.” 

She faced him. “ If I had it, I wouldna teU 
ye,” she said quietly. “ It’U be enough if I ha’ 
to sacrifice myself. Speak no more to me about 
this business, John Corrie, for I ha’ nothing more 
to say. Only terrible thoughts.” And with that 
she left him. 


CHAPTEE XIV 


C OLIX HAYWAED began tbe joimiey south 
with much to wonder about. He had 
obtained no bght whatever on the extraordinary- 
affair in front of the burning house, for Sam had 
not recovered consciousness. It was, indeed, 
doubtful whether he would ever do so. Cohn 
had not the slightest suspicion as to the identity 
of the muffled coward whom he had seen fell the 
half-suffocated postman ; he had not, owing to 
position, observed the former take anything from 
the latter’s helpless hand ; neither had he in his 
rage noticed the crushed letter fall. It was 
in his path as he turned to the victim’s succour, 
and he had picked it up almost automatically, 
with some vague notion that it might be of conse- 
quence to somebody or other. 

Then he had forgotten about it. 

Xow — an hour after leaving the junction — 
ha-vtng exhausted the contents of his cigarette- 
case, he put his hand into a pocket [for a reserve 
136 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


137 


packet,' and encountered the document. He 
merely glanced at its heading, intending to place 
it in his letter-case for attention later. He had 
no intention of reading it through. Enough to 
learn to whom it belonged. But the words 
“ My dear Corrie ” arrested both hand and eye. 
Presently he told himself that there was nothing 
so very strange in this ; the letter might easily 
have been dropped and left lying there hours 
before the ghastly affair took place. He noticed 
the date was of more than five years back. But 
in the same moment he was caught by the words 
“ Kitty ” and “ Zeniths ” — and “ 5,000 shares.” 

“ I’m afraid,” he said to himself, “ I’ve got to 
read this whether I like it or not.” 

It was|a longish letter, written in a clear small 
hand on both sides of a large square sheet. The 
portion with which we are concerned was as 
follows : — 

“ You may perhaps find nothing in the enclosed 
share certificates (which, please note, are 
‘ bearer ’) but a fresh evidence of my folly in 
worldly matters. Still, the Zenith Gold Mine is 
the only thing of the kind I ever put hard-earned 
mon y into. There are 5,000 £1 shares, and I 
paid 2s. apiece for them, and at [the moment they 
are unsaleable. I acted om the advice of u friend 


138 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


wlio liad seen the property, and who had know- , i 
ledge of such things. He was convinced that ! 
the mine would come right in time — meaning ^ 
years — and pay big dividends. Well, he may J 
have been aU wrong, and I the silliest of poor 
fools ; but now, John, I put the shares in your 
keeping as a ‘ possibility ’ for Kitty, when she j 
comes of age. I have never mentioned them ; 
to her — certainly not with any reference to her- 3 
seif — for I don’t want her to be more disap- ^ 
pointed in me than I can help. Give them to her « 
when she is twenty-one, and show her this letter, | 
and if by any chance they are worth money then, 
or later, she will at least repay you what she may | 
have cost you — though, of course, I am hoping | 
she will earn enough to do that as she goes along. ^ 

W.E. Should you hear of the shares rising before "-i 
then, you will just use your discretion, and do the | 
best you can for my girl.” '3 

I 

Cohn’s dehght at the thought of Kitty having i| 
a fortune of her own was soon swamped by a I 
flood of doubts and suspicions. The remainder \ 
of the journey was a sort of nightmare. Of only J 
one thing could he assure himself as he neared J 
London : Kitty’s fortune, were it in danger from | 
persons in London or Dunford, was not going to i 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


139 


be made an easier prey by any act of bis. At 
first be bad thought of showing the letter to Mr. 
Eisk and asking bis advice, but now be deter- 
mined that bis only com’se was to return to 
Dunford at the earbest possible moment, and put 
it into the bands of Kitty herself. He might be 
losing the chance of bis life by such an action, 
and Mb'. Eisk might be the best and straigbtest 
of men, but Cohn was so truly in love with the 
girl that the hopelessness of it made no difference. 
Consequently nothing but her happiness mattered. 

It was about five o’clock when he reached 
Aberdare Mansions. He was admitted without 
delay to his employer’s study. Before he could 
speak, Mr. Eisk, with a smile, said — 

“Sorry I gave you that vain journey, Hay- 
ward. This morning a note from Symington 
came to the office requesting that the new certifi- 
cates should be delivered to him at the Kingsway 
Grand Hotel.'' 

“ Yes ; that’s the address his housekeeper gave 
me, Mr. Eisk,” said Colm. “ Do you wish me to 
take the letter there now ? ”o he inquired pro- 
ducing it. 

Eisk took it and laid it on the writing-table, 
saying : “ About noon I sent the secretary to the 
hotel with a similar better, and he found that 


140 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Mr. Symiiigton had left for Scotland about two 
hours previously — presumably in response to a 
wire which the secretary was able to learn he had 
received.” 

“ Gone back to Dunford ? ” 

“ We must not assume that. Take a cigarette, 
Hayward, and, if agreeable to you, tell me in a 
few words what you know of Mr. Symington.” 

“ Very little, Mr. Eisk, and any information 
I have is indirect. His father and his two brothers 
all died within a year, and about eighteen months 
ago he became the owner of what we call the White 
Farm — a very decent little place until he got 
possession. He’s not interested in farming, you 
know. I’ve heard he has done all sorts of things 
— some pretty queer — ^in his time. He has the 
reputation of being a gambler, and a speculator, 
but please remember that I’m repeating gossip. 
I ” — Colin hesitated — “ I reaUy know nothing 
against the man.” 

Eisk, offering a lighted match, said quietly: 
“ WeU, what do you know in his favour ? ” 

Colin smiled. “ One is more Ukely to hear of 
a man’s faults than his [virtues. Besides, as I 
told you, I’ve been more away from Dimford 
than m it during the last five years or so.” 

“ You are not familiar with the natives ? ” 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


141 


“ Kot generally speaking. Still, I hope I have 
a friend or two among them.” 

“ Would Mr. Symington have been welcome in 
your home ? ” 

“ His father would have been courteously re- 
ceived.” 

Eisk nodded thoughtfully. “ Please pardon so 
many questions, Hayward. I feel that I may 
now teU you why I am taking so much trouble, 
and giving you so much, over this Mr. Symington. 
About seven years ago I advised a friend who had 
come into a httle money to put it into Zeniths for 
what is sometimes termed a ‘ long shot.’ I did 
so not only because I positively knew the mines 
had a great future, though possibly a distant 
one, but also because I knew my_ friend would 
otherwise fritter away the money which he 
honestly believed he could save for his daughter, 
then a young girl. . . . Yes, Hayward ? Have 
you something to say ? ” 

“ Please go on,” said Cohn, restraining himself. 

“ Very .well. Zeniths at that period,” the other 
proceeded, “ were decidedly out of favour. One 
could buy at two or three shillings. My Mend 
bought 5,000 at half a crown a share. At his 
request I did the business for him and eventually 
handed him ten bearer certificates for 500 shares 


K 


142 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


each. I am a methodical person in some re- 
spects, and in an old diary I have a record of the 
transaction and the numbers of the shares. Kow 
— one moment, please ! — I had my friend’s pro- 
mise that he would not part with the shares until 
I gave him the word. If he needed money badly, 
he was to let me know. Time passed, and circum- 
stances prevented our meeting ; I was much 
abroad. I did not hear of his death until a year 
afterwards, and I failed to trace his daughter. 
But I have always been on the watch for shares 
bearing the numbers recorded in the old diary, 
and I have not grown less keen since the shares 
began to move up in earnest. And now, when 
the shares have risen to over four pounds apiece 
— when my friend, had he lived, would have seen 
himself worth at least twenty thousand pounds 
— along comes a letter -from a Mr. Symington . 
covering five hundred of those same shares — — ” 

“ Mr. Eisk, I have something to say ” • 

“ One moment more ! — and within a few hours 
of its receipt I discover, by the merest chance, .5 

the daughter of my old friend ” | 

“ Her — ^his name was Carstairs — ^Hugh Oar- ^ 
stairs ? ” exploded Cohn. 

“ It was.” I 

“ And no doubt you mean as well by the 1 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


143 


daughter as you meant by the father ? — Oh, I 
beg your pardon, Mr. Eisk ! ” 

For an instant Eisk frowned, then he smiled 
pleasantly. “ The daughter has never seen me, 
but she has no better friend for her father’s sake. 
Yet I must try to satisfy you that I am not in- 
terested in those 5,000 shares with an eye to 
personal profit.” He got up and, leaving Colin 
hot and imcomfortable, went to a safe built into 
the wan behind the paneUing, a door in which 
stood open. He came back with a thin bundle 
of parchment-Uke papers which he put into the 
young man’s hand. 

“ Kindly look at these, Hayward, and tell me 
what they represent.” 

Eeluctahtly but perforce Colin examined the 
documents and after a little while replied a trifle 
huskily — 

“ Eighty thousand shares in the Zenith Com- 
pany — and you are the owner ! ” 

“ WeU, does that satisfy you that I can afford 
to be honest ? Please don’t think I was showing 
off ! ” 

Cohn hung his head as he handed back the 
certificates — and murmured an apology. He was 
not so much impressed by the man’s great wealth 
as by his cool, straightforward answer to suspicion. 


144 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ You are evidently Miss Carstairs’ good friend,” 
Eisk said kindly, throwing the bundle on the 
table, “ and so your doubts do you credit. You 
are aware that she is in London ? ” 

Cohn jumped. WeU, she had not been long in 
making use of the himdred pounds ! “ I didn’t 

know,” he managed to say fairly steadily, and 
could have asked many questions. 

“ She is staying with my sister,” continued 
Eisk. “ My sister was here a few minutes ago. 
Sorry you did not meet. If you like, we shall 
call upon her after dinner. But now as to Syming- 
ton, I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to make 
another night journey ; only you need not 'start 
till 11.30, when you will find a sleeping berth on 
the tram. Am I working you too hard ? ” 

“ Eather not ! ” cried Colin. “ But, Mr. Eisk, 
I must not delay another moment to show you 
this.” He produced the crumpled letter. 
“ When you have read it, I will answer any ques- 
tions I can.” 

Eisk took the letter and started sUghtly. 

“ Hugh’s writing ! ” he murmured. He read 
carefully and without apparent emotion. Having 
conle to the end, he sighed and said softly : “ Just 
tell me all you can, Hayward.” 

Colin made a brief and simple relation of his 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


145 


experience beside the burning house. He also 
told what he knew of the Corries. His host heard 
him out in silence — and thereafter remained in 
thought for a space. 

Then he said : “ You have raised a lot of ques- 
tions, Hayward, but I must try to put them in 
order before I ask them. Certainly we shall have 
enough to talk about this evening, and I’m afraid 
we must postpone the call upon my sister. In 
any case I don’t think we ought to bring Miss 
Carstairs into the business before we cannot avoid 
doing so. I have learned that she has no know- 
ledge of the purchase of Zeniths by her father. It 
would be a pity to excite or alarm her unneces- 
sarily. At the same time, this letter of Corrie’s 
in itself proves nothing against the man. I am 
not in Miss Carstairs’ confidence, and my sister 
has not felt at liberty so far to tell me what the 
girl has confided to her ; but I can’t help sus- 
pecting, after what you have told me, that Miss 
Carstairs was not particularly happy in Dunford, 
and that she may possibly have run away.” 

“ I shouldn’t wonder,” said Cohn almost in- 
audibly. 

“ Only,” continued the other, “ I am loth to 
beheve that she had so httle common sense to 
attempt London with nothing in her purse and 


146 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


no friends in yiew — for you have given me to 
understand that such was her position. Isn’t 
that so ? ” he asked, with a keen glance at his 
guest. 

Cohn felt himself reddening. 

“ Look here,” Eisk said pleasantly, “ won’t 
you help me by being open with me ? I’m the 
older man, and I’ve been pretty frank with you. 
The fuller the confidence between us, the better 
we shall work together. Kow I do not doubt 
for a moment that you were honestly surprised 
to hear of Miss Carstairs being in London ” 

“ So soon,” added Colin, before he could prevent 
himself. 

“ You mean ? ” 

“ Mr. Eisk,” cried the young man, half-angry, 
half-amused, “ you would get the truth out of 
any one ! WeU, I’ll trust you ; but she must 
never know.” And he confessed to sending 
Kitty the hundred pounds. 

“ And how much had you for your own needs 
when you arrived in London ? ” was the first 
question from Eisk. 

“ Fifteen odds. But, you know, I couldn’t 
have taken the money for myself.” 

The host’s smile was kindly. “ I doubt whether . 
you are going to be a great worldly success, 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


147 


Hayward,” lie said, “ but I’m sure you are on the 
right road to happiness.” 

Colin gave his head a rueful shake. “ Please 
understand,” he said shyly, “ that there’s nothing 
between Miss Carstairs and me except a little 
ordinary friendship.” 

“ Thank you for telling me about the money,” 
said Eisk, in a more business-like tone. “ Kow 
as to this letter, what is your suggestion ? ” 

“ That you keep it — ^in your safe — for the 
present, klr. Eisk.” 

A slight frown contracted the older man’s brow. 
“ It is a horrible thing,” he remarked, “ to be 
retaining another man’s property, and yet I 
think the circumstances will excuse, though I 
still hope they may not' justify, the action. You 
see, if Mr. Corrie is innocent, we are doiug him a 
great wrong ; if he is guilty — well, we are depriv- 
ing him of a rope to hang himself with. On the 
whole, I think you ought to caU on him to-morrow 
morning and hand him back the letter — ^which I 
shall keep until it is time for you to start.” 

“ Great Heavens ! ” exclaimed Colin, aghast. 

“ And you need not trouble about Mr. Sym- 
ington for the present. Let us assume them both 
innocent until we can prove them guilty.” 

“ But Kit — ^Miss Carstairs’ fortune ! ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


U8 

“ Say the word, and I will hand over to you 
5,000 of my own shares to hold until you are 
satisfied that I am dealing fairly with her inter- 
ests.” 

Colin said nothing. 

“ I had hoped you were gomg to trust me,” the 
other murmured. 

“ Mr. Eisk,” cried the young man distractedly, 
“ put yourself in my place ! What would you 
do? ” 

“ I’d at least think over it,” Eisk replied cheer- 
fully. “ I’ll give you half an hour. I have an 
engagement now — with a photographer, of aU 
people — and I’m sure you would like a hath and 
a change of linen after those journeyings. My 
man will look after you.” He pressed a beU- 
button on the table. “ And while you are think- 
ing over it, please keep remembering this : that 
there is only one right way of doing a thing — 
which is my way ! ” He laughed and extended 
his hand. Then he became grave. “ Hugh Car- 
stairs once rendered a great service to my mother 
when she was abroad and alone. He is dead, 
but I remember always. And if any man tries 
to rob Hugh Carstairs’ daughter, and cheat Hugh 
in his grave — then God help that man ! He 
shall not escape me ! ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


149 


The seryant opened the door and stood at 
attention. Knowing not what to think, Colin 
rose and passed out. 

:|e sj! ♦ ♦ * 

At the same hour Hilda Eisk was ascending to 
her flat in Long Acre. On the second landing she 
came to an abrupt stop. She had walked from 
her brother’s home, intending to make a purchase 
on the way — and had forgotten all about it. 
“ Trying to think of too many things at once,” 
she reprimanded herself, and retraced her steps. 

As she emerged upon the street she almost 
coUided with a man apparently about to enter. 
He drew back with a muttered apology, and she 
passed on her way with a vague feeling of having 
seen him before. He had a sharp, rather pinched 
countenance, small dark moustache, and his 
bowler^hat was decidedly shabby. So much she 
noticed. Then she dismissed the matter, pro- 
ceeded on her errand, returned home to find 
Kitty happy at the typewriter, but happier still 
to see her, and settled down to some journalistic 
work which was to keep her busy most of the 
evening. As for the man, he made for Covent 
Garden telegraph office. 

In the middle of the pight, being wakeful, she 
had an odd recollection of the pinched face under 


150 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


tlie shabby bowler. And now she remembered 
where she had seen the man before. Why, only 
half an hour had elapsed between the first and 
second encormter ! For she had noticed bim on 
the opposite , pavement as she was leaviug Aber- 
dare Mansions. 

“ The beast followed me ! ” she thought sud- 
denly. 


CHAPTEE XY 


“ ^OU bungler ! ” 

1 Mr. Symington’s countenance was sickly; 
his voice was full of cold and bitter disgust. 

The wretched Corrie had come to the end of 
his sorry confession, not without interruptions^ 
mainly of an angry, abusive nature. And now 
the verdict — “ You bungler ! ” Somehow it stung 
most of all. 

“ It’s easy to call names,” he rejoined resent- 
fully. “ I’m no’ the only bxmgler. If ever a man 
let a girl sUp through his fingers it was you. Te 
shoxdd ha’ had her easy that night — ^wMle she was 
terrified — after she had taken the post office 
money ” 

“ I don’t believe she took any money ” 

“ Then how could she pay her fare to Lon- 
don ? ” 

“ Probably the postman lent — ^gave — ^her it.” 

The postmaster forced a grin. “ WeU, ye can 
151 


152 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


believe that if ye Like. And then,” he went on 
quickly, “ ye had your chance in the train — and 
lost it ! ” 

“ I’ve told you why.” 

“ Well, if ye had got the girl, the letter wouldna 
ha’ mattered so much, for ye would ha’ got the 
Zeniths wi’ her. So ye can blame yourself as 
well as me.” 

There was a silence. Corrie sat glowering 
at the floor and plucking at his lower lip. Sym- 
ington scowled openly at him. They were in the 
privacy of the parlour. It was about nine o’clock> 
and growing dark. 

Suddenly Symington emitted a short, ugly 
laugh. “ So this is what you brought me back 
from London for ! Well, I don’t wonder at 
your being afraid. Between embezzlement and 

attempted murder 

Whisht, man, for God’s sake ! ” 

“ It may be murder itself yet ” 

“ Be quiet, damn ye ! ” 

“ Look here, Corrie ; what’U you do if Sam 
recovers ? ” 

“ He canna recover — I heard it an hour before 
ye arrived. But supposing he does recover, 
what can he do without the letter ? ” 

“ You’re perfectly sure he didn’t spot you ? ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


153 


“ Aye ; I’m sure — and I’m almost sure young 
Hayward didna’ recognize me.” 

“ Otherwise you wouldna be sitting here now 
— eh? ” 

“ Let that pass,” said Corrie, restraining his 
temper. “ The point is — the letter.” 

“ But I don’t happen to be interested in the 
letter.” 

“ Ye’ve got to be interested in it ! If I canna 
get back the letter, I’U need to get back the 
shares.” 

“ I’m afraid you won’t get back the shares.” 

Corrie exploded. “ Would ye ruin me — send 
me to the jail ? ” 

Symington ignored the outburst. “ I bought 
the shares from you,” he said calmly, “ and paid 
for them. I have your acknowledgment. I may 
say that I intend to hold them till September, 
when a first dividend will be declared, which, I 
am informed, will send them to ten poimds ” 

“ Ten poimd ! Fifty thousand for the lot ! ” 
gasped Corrie. 

“ Just so. But rather than risk bemg involved 
in your dirty affairs, I’U sell the lot to-morrow 
for what I can get and — er — emigrate.” 

“ Ye swine ! — ^but ye’U ha’ the poUce after ye ! ” 

“ Why ? ” 


154 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


Oorrie rose, sat down again, and writhed in 
his impotenee. 

“ I might have the lawyers after me,” Syming- 
ton admitted easily, “ but the lawyers always 

take a of a time to get to work, and I generally 

travel quickly. However, I think you’re makmg 
too much of your own danger. Kitty is not 
likely to attempt to prosecute you, since you can 
prove that she tampered with the post' office 
money.” He peered through the dusk at the 
other’s face. “ Isn’t that so ? ” 

“ Aye, that’s so,” Corrie managed to reply. 
He was caught in the toils of his own making. 

After a little while Symington said : “ Why 
don’t you make Elitty come back here ? ” 

Corrie started, then dropped his gaze. “ How 
can I do that when I dinna ken where she is ? ” 

Symington took out the telegram he had found 
on his arrival. 

“ Is that her address ? ” cried the other. 

“ It may be. It is certainly the address of 
the lady who took charge of her on the train, 
and now that I’ve got it. I’ll soon find where 
Kitty is.” 

“ How did ye get it ? ” 

“ Kever mind. But it might be worth your 
while to send a wire, first thing in the morning. 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


155 


to Kitty, at this address. Just say : ‘ Serious 
for you if not home within twenty-four hours’ 
. . . How’s that ? ” 

Corrie groaned. “ She wouldna come. . . . 
Maybe she’s seen the letter by this time.” 

“Maybe she hasn’t. It’s a chance anyway — 
your only chance, perhaps. Will you wire — ^put 
it stronger if you like — ^in the morning ? ” 

“ I — 1 tell ye, she wouldna come.” 

Symington got to his feet. “ I beheve,” he 
said slowly, “ it was a filthy lie about the post 
office money.” 

Corrie shrank in his chair. He was at the 
end of his endurance. “ I did it,” he stammered 
“ to help you.” 

“ Did what ? ” 

“ P — ^put the five-pun’ note in her drawer.” 

“ God damn you ! ” cried Symington, raising 
his fist. “You did it to help yourself to half 
the ” He stopped short with a stifled curse. 

Miss Corrie came in with a lighted lamp, which 
she set on the table. 

“ Are ye quarrelling ? ” she quavered. She 
seemed to have grown ten years older durmg the 
past forty-eight hours. 

Symington strode by her, but halted in the 
doorway. 


156 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ I’m going back to London to-morrow,” he 
said harshly, “ and I don’t want any more wires 
from you.” Thereupon he went out. 

Eachel turned to her brother. 

“John, John,” she cried piteously, “ will he 
no’ help ye ? ” 

The unhappy man threw out [his arms, let 
them fall on the edge of the table and bowed his 
face on them. Helplessly his sister regarded 
him, then turned and left him to himself. She 
went to her room and fell on her knees. Had 
Kitty appeared iu that hour, one may presume 
that she would have been offered the miserable 
confession of a miserable sinner. But there is 
an old saying concerning the devil when he was 
sick. . . . 

4 : ^ 4 : ^ 

Shortly, after eight the following morning, 
Colin, carrying a light overcoat and a small suit- 
case, entered the post office. The dingy place 
was flooded with sunlight; even the passage 
to the shop was filled with it. The counter 
was unattended. Upon it Colin laid the suit- 
case and coat. Eaising the lid he disclosed among 
sundry articles pertaining to a lengthy night 
journey a little box camera. For a moment 
or two he fingered it somewhat nervously. Then 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


157 


at the back — ^i.e., the bottom — of the case he 
drew aside a strip of leather, uneoveririg a small 
rmmd hole against which he fitted the eye of 
the camera. He let down the lid so far : it 
was kept from closing by his left hand which 
remained inside. Presently, drawing a long 
breath, he rapped smartly on the counter. 

Almost immediately Miss Corrie appeared in the 
short passage. At the sight of him she seemed 
to stumble, and as she recovered herseE he said-.— 
“ Can I see Mr. Corrie for a moment ? ” 

Without answering she turned and went back. 
It seemed many minutes before Corrie himseE 
appeared. Colin thought he had never seen a 
more ghastly-looking creature. The countenance 
was unreadable, but the man’s soul was torn 
between terror and hope. 

As he stepped into the office there was a scarcely 
audible cEck from the suit-case. 

“ Morning,” he said huskily, and ran his tongue 
over his tips. 

“ Morning, Mr. Corrie,” repEed CoEn, fanly 
cheerfuEy. He raised the Ed and brought forth 
a sealed envelope without superscription. He 
handed it over the counter, saying, “You might 
look and see E the paper enclosed belongs to 
you.” 


L 


158 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


Oorrie took it with shakiug fingers and moved 
back from the counter. He cleared his throat. 
“ Ye mean me to open it, Mr. Hayward ? ” 
“ Certainly,” Colin could have pitied the 
man as he turned a second [film silently into 
position. 

The envelope was very firmly gummed, and 
Corrie’s fingers fumbled in a fashion painful to 
witness. But at last it was torn open — the 
precious letter was in his hand. He looked as if he 
were going to cry. How the click might have 
been ten times louder without his hearing it. 
He was dazed with relief. 

Cohn closed the case, feeling almost guilty. 

“ Is it yours, M!r. Corrie ? ” 

Corrie seemed to pull himself together. “ Aye, 
it’s mine, sure enough, and — and I’m obliged 
to fye, Mr. Hayward.” The old cunning came 
to his aid. “ I lost it more’n a week ago. Might 
I ask where ye found it ? ” 

“ On the grass across the road from the post- 
man’s house, while it was burning,” answered 
Cohn, as naturaUy as he cordd. 

“ Well, weU ! That’s mysterious, for it’s more’n 
a month since I was that road, except the morning 
after the fire. Somebody mun ha’ found it and 
lost it again. Well, once more, I’m obliged 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


159 


to ye, though the paper’s no’ o’ any great conse- 
quence. It was written by my poor brother-in- 
law when he wasna quite right in his head. 
Still, I’m glad to have it, Mr. Hayward, thank 
ye.” 

“ I should explain,” said Cohn, concealing 
with an effort his disgust, “ that after I picked it 
up I forgot about it until I was in the train for 
London. Good morning, Mr. Corrie.” He caught 
up case and coat, and hurried out before Corrie ' 
could frame another sentence. 

“ Eachel ! — ^here, quick ! ” 

She came in haste, almost weeping. 

“ Oh, John, John, ha’ ye got it back ? ” 

“ Aye,” he answered shortly, with something 
of his old truculence of tone. 

“ Oh, God be thanked ! ” she murmured. 

“ Ye’ll ha’ to manage by yourself for an hour,” 
he said rapidly, “ I mun hurry "to White Farm 

“ But now, John, ye’U teU Kitty the truth,” 
she cried excitedly. “ I got her address this 
morning. I can trust ye wi’ it now, for ye’re 

a changed man, as I’m a changed woman ” 

“ What’s the address ? ” 

“ 366 Long Acre, London — care o’ Miss Eisk.” 

“ I’ll mind it. Well, I mun run, or I’ll miss 


160 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


Symington. I’ll master him yet — aye, I will 
that, by God ! ” 

“ But ye — eye’ll tell Kitty the truth, John — 
ye’U write to her this very day — ^will ye no’ ? ” 
she caught his arm. 

“ Pah ! ” he shook her off. “ Let me gang, 
woman ! WeU, well. I’ll see. I’ll see.” 

Alone — “ God|! ” she whispered, “ is he no’ a 
changed man after all ? ” 

Symington was at breakfast when Corrie 
broke in upon him. 

“ What the devil do you want ? ” was the 
spurious farmer’s greeting. 

“ I’ve got back the letter ? ” 

“ Sit down and don’t make a scene,” said 
Symington, after a moment. “ Tell me about it 
quietly. And look here, Corrie ; I was a bit 

rough on you last night ” 

“ Ye were that ! But now it’s my turn ” 

“ One moment. I had good cause for my 
annoyance — ^you must admit that much. But 
after I left you, I thought it over in cold blood, 
and came to the only conclusion possible. You 
and I must continue to work together ; we must 

stick to the original bargain ” 

“ Ye’U mean that ye’U try to marry her yet 
and pay me half the profits ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


161 


“ Exactly ! Now tell me about the letter.” 
Under this coolness Corrie’s violence collapsed. 
He seated bimself, saying : “ But can I trust 
ye to keep a’ I said last night secret ? ” 

“ We have got to trust each other, Corrie. 
Let us forget about last night. . . . Now go 
ahead.” 

By the end of the postmaster’s brief recital 
Symington’s brows were contracted. i 

“ It’s a puzzler,” he • remarked. “ I should 
say that Hayward returned the letter for one of 
two reasons : either he hadn’t read it through, 
or else he wants to stand w;ell with you on account 
of Kitty. What do you think ? ” 

Corrie shook his head. “ I don’t know what 
to think, but ’twill do neither of us good if he 

comes across her in London ” 

“ How do you know he’s going back 
there ? ” 

“ I canna’ say for certain, but I’ve heard o’ 
talk among the servants that there was trouble 
with his father the other night.” 

“ Possible,” Symington grinned and became 
grave. “ Then what’s he doing back here ? ” 

“ Ye beat me there. But if ye want advice, 
it’s just this : get a hold o’ the girl without delay. 
That’s the only way now to make absolute sure 


162 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


o’ the Zeniths. I can give ye her address for 
certain.” 

“ Well, I’m hanged ! ” 

“ My sister got it this morning. Write it 
down, will ye ? ” 

“ It’s just as I thought,” said Symington, a 
moment later, “ but I’m obliged to yon, Corrie. 
And, as yon say, it’s the only way to make 
sure of the Zeniths without risking trouble. I’U 
go south to-night.” 

“ How are ye going to get a hold o’ her ? 
Ye’ve got to mind she’s wi’ friends — at least I 
suppose so.” 

“ You can leave that to me. Kitty won’t 
escape me a third time ! I wonder if she’s 
much in love with that fellow Hayward. Well, 
if she is, I’U make use of the fact.” 

“ I’d give somethiug to ha’ him out o’ the road,” 
said Corrie, with sudden viciousness. “ I’ve 
been thiokin’ he maybe kens more’n he’s shown. 
If Sam was to get better after a’ ” 

“ Don’t start brooding on that ! ” said Syming- 
ton shortly. “ By the way, have you destroyed 
the letter ? ” 

“ Ko, I’m going to keep it — safely this time.” 

“ Why on earth ” 

Corrie glared at his feUow-conspirator. “ I 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


163 


intend to trust ye, Symington,” he said slowly. 
“ Same time, I warn ye, if ye try to get the better 
o’ me. I’ll take the risk o’ handing the letter to 
Kitty Carstairs and telling her the whole cursed 
story.” 

For an instant Symington’s gaze was murderous. 
Then he laughed. “ Canny man, canny man ! ” 
he sneered, “ If Kitty would forgive you — well, 
let that pass. Meantime, I want the loan of 
twenty pounds. There ought to have been a 
registered letter for me this morning. If it 
comes to-morrow, you must re-direct it to London. 
Kow I’ll walk down to the shop with you and get 
the cash.” 

“ AH right,” said Corrie reluctantly, after a 
pause. “ But ye mun be careful what ye say 
before Eachel. I doubt if she’s on our side now. 
Let her think ye’re considering about giving me 
back the Zeniths for the girl. D’ye see ? ” 

“.Very well. Kow that she’s got Kitty’s 
address she might easily make trouble.” 

“ I wish,” said Corrie, as they went down the 
road, “ I wish ye would tell me how ye’re going 
to get a hold o’ her. Ha’ ye got a plan ? ” 

“ Perhaps I have.” Symington smiled darkly, 
and changed the subject. 


164 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Meanwhile Colin was seated in an exceedingly 
slow train on his way to the hospital where 
Sam the postman lay. Afterwards « he would 
go on to Glasgow, and thence hack to London 
by a Line that did not pass near Dunford. In 
this he was simply obeyiag the instructions of 
Mr. Eisk. 


CHAPTEE XVI 


HAT nearly a fortnight should have passed 



A without any effort on Symington’s part 
to get a hold ” of Kitty may seem to the reader 
to require some explanation. Possibly sufficient 
will be found in a conversation between Eisk and 
Colin, which tpok place on the twelfth day after 
the latter’s call on the postmaster of Dunford. 
Colin had returned from Scotland, only to be dis- 
patched, within a few hours, to an address in 
Amsterdam with a belt full of finely broken 
bottle glass next his skin, which he believed to 
be a fortune in uncut precious stones. Back 
from Holland he found written mstructions to 
proceed to Madrid to fetch a little box purporting 
to contain 3,000 sovereigns, and actually con- 
cealing about half a hundredweight of lead. 

And now, a trifle fagged, he was sitting in 
Eisk’s study, hoping to hear that he had done 
well. Eisk did not keep him long in suspense. 


765 


166 


KITTY OAKSTAIES 


After a few questions respecting the last journey 
he said, rather abruptly — 

“ WeU, Hayward, you’ve been serving me so far 
pretty much with your eyes shut : I wonder if 
you care to continue with your eyes open. I 
warn you that some of the work may be dull and 
most of it will be hard. I have got plenty of 
young men who work well in their own particular 
grooves, but I want one who is prepared to take 
on any job I put before him, just as I, with so 
many different interests, have had to do in the 
past for myself. I don’t expect you to learn 
everything at once, but I should expect you to 
be interested in everything that interests me. 
And I offer you £500 for the first year.” 

Colin almost leapt from his seat. “ £500, 
Mr. Eisk ! Why, I’ll never be worth that ! ” 

“ You’ll think differently six months hence. 
Meantime, do you accept ? ” 

“ Oh, rather ! — and thank you a ” 

“ Then let’s talk of something else. For 
instance, I have word that your friend the post- 
man has a chance of recovering, and I have to 
tell you about our friend Symington.” 

“ I’ve been wondering,” said Cohn, “ whether 
he accepted your invitation to call at the office.” 
“ He did — the morning after you left for 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


167 


Amsterdam. Incidentally, I got rather a good 
snap-shot of him. He seemed a trifle nervous 
until he received the new certificates, and then he 
coolly informed the secretary that he had pur- 
chased the old ones six years ago — an unmitigated 
lie, as we know. It remains to be seen, of course, 
whether he is acting for himself or for Corrie, 
and if the former, how many of the 5,000 shares 
have come into his possession.” 

“ You can’t prevent him selling the shares ? ” 

“ I could do that by circularizing all the 
exchanges and brokers, but sooner or later that 
would mean publicity. Besides, I want to give 
Jlr. Symington rope just as I’ve given it to Mr. 
Corrie.” 

“ It may prove awfuUy expensive rope, Mr. 
Eisk,” ventured Cohn. 

“ I’m ready to pay for my amusement,” the 
other pleasantly returned, “ and you don’t want 
me to teU you again that I will replace every 
share it may cost Miss Carstairs.” 

“ I didn’t mean that,” said Cohn. “ Only — 
well, you have been so good to me that I’d hate 
to see you lose ” 

“Money! Yes, but think of the game, Hay- 
ward ! And we’re going to win that. Why,, 
it’s going to be the most tremendously interesting 


168 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


business I ever tackled. You don’t mind danger, 
do you ? ” 

Colin laughed. “ I’m afraid I’ve had no 
experience, but I’m at your service, Mr. Eisk. 
I suppose,” he went on, “ Symington has already 
converted some of the 500 shares into cash.” 

“ We may assume that much. To put it 
mildly, he has been on the spree since the day 
he got the new certificates.” 

“ You have had him watched ? ” 

Eisk nodded. “ And I have gone into his 
past to some extent. He is not a desirable person, 
I fear. But we shall leave him for the present. 
My sister and Miss Carstairs, also your friend 
West, are dining with me to-night, and I hope 
you are free to join us.” 

Colin flushed with pleasure. 

“ I should like you,” continued Eisk, “ to 
make your quarters here for the present. Sharp 
has a room ready for you. And now I’m going to 
ask you an impertinent question. Have you 
any debts ? ” 

“ Ko — ^well, I owe my father £100,” the young 
man replied ruefully. 

“ Then pay it ; and if you think you have any 
grudge against him, forget it. For this year I 
will pay your salary quarterly, in advance. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


169 


Don’t thank me. I simply want you to be able 
to serve me with as free a mind, and as light a 
heart, as possible. Frankly, you’re an experi- 
ment.” With a kindly laugh *Eisk proceeded 
to write a cheque. 

It was no shame to Colin then if his eyes were 
moist. Surely his father would think kindlier 
of him now. 

An hour later he and Kitty were face to face. 
Ages long it seemed since their parting in the 
little wood, less than three weeks ago ! How 
much had happened since then! Perhaps Kitty 
was more at her ease than he. She had slipped 
into the new, pleasant life as though she belonged 
to it. She was still a little shy, but not awk- 
wardly so. She had never been ‘‘ countrified,” 
yet Colin had always thought of her as a country 
maid — and had loved her none the less for that. 
In sunlight and -moonlight he had deemed her 
the prettiest creature alive. But now, under the 
shaded electric lamps of a London drawing-room^ 
in a white muslin frock that gave glimpses of 
her neck and arms, he beheld her, and his faithful 
heart ached at her fresh loveliness. 

Isn’t this wonderful ? ” she whispered, smiling, 
aS' they shook hands. 

Poor Colin ! He managed to smile in return,, 


170 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


but not a word could be find, for in that moment 
be realized that be loved ber more than ever, 
and tbat if bis love bad been welLtiigb hopeless 
before, it was utterly hopeless now. For with 
all bis resolutions to put ber out of bis life on 
coming to London, be bad indulged a dream of 
fighting for success in order tbat be might one 
day rescue ber from dreariness or hardship, and 
somehow win ber for bis own. Alas, now be 
comprehended only too fuUy what the Zeniths 
meant to himself. Kitty would be a very rich 
young woman. He could serve ber in nothing 
at all. What an irony tbat the man who bad 
given him bis first step upwards — and a great 
step, too — should be the man to set bis dearest 
desire beyond bis reach ! Well, there was nothing 
for it but to cleave to duty and have done with 
dreams. 

ISTevertbeless it was a cheerful bttle dinner- 
party, and during it the love-lorn young man 
and Hilda Eisk laid the foundations of a lasting 
friendship. Towards the close of the repast 
Kitty was telling the host of her father’s un- 
finished novel which Mr. West bad just completed. 

“ He did it in sis days, Mr. Eisk,” she said 
warmly, “ and I could not have told tbat it was 
not my father’s own work. It was wonderful.” 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


171 


“ Hot at all,” said West, in Ms matter-of-fact 
voice. “ There was next to notMng for me to 
do, for the last act was foreshadowed. It’s a great 
play, Eisk. Craven of the Planet, whom I got 
to read it right away, admitted as much this 
very day, though he wouldn’t accept it.” 

“ Why ? ” asked Eisk. 

“ Too much unlike recent successes, I suppose,” 
said West drily. “ And I believe it would draw 
all London.” 

“ Miss Carstairs,” said Eisk kindly, “ wouldn’t 
you hke to see your father’s play performed? ” 

The girl’s shining eyes answered for her. 

“ I think I can persuade Craven,” remarked 
Eisk, turning to West. “ Can you arrange a 
meeting between us for the day after to- 
morrow ? ” 

“ By jove ! ” said West softly. “ The thing’s 
done ! Miss Carstairs, take my word for it, 
that play will bring you a little fortune. Eisk, 
God bless you ! ” 

Kitty looked from one to the other ■ “ Is it — 
is it really and truly going to be ? ” she asked, 
tremulously. 

“ Leave it to Mr. Eisk,” cried West in high 
dehght. 

“ I think you may. Miss Carstairs,” Eisk said. 


172 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


with that amused look of his. “ But don’t 
count on the fortune just yet. Still, I’ll make 
the best terms I can for you ” 

“ And Mr. West,” she put in quickly. “ Please 
don’t think me ungrateful and horrid, Mr. Eisk, 
but I don’t wish you to — to trouble' about the 
play at aU ^unless IVIr. West promises — on paper, 
too — ^to take half the profits — if any.” 

“ Never ! ” shouted West, indignant. 

“ Goodness me,” said Hilda, interrupting her 
talk with Cohn, “ what on earth is the matter, 
Anthony ? ” 

“ Nothing, my dear,” repUed her brother. 
“ Merely Anthony’s little way of receiving a 
decent business proposition.” He turned to 
Kitty. “ Never mind, Mss Carstairs ; we three 
shall have a talk together later, and ” 

Sharp came into the room with a note on a 
salver. 

“ Messenger boy brought it, sir ; said it was 
immediate,” he murmured to his master, as he 
presented the salver to Kitty. “No answer, 
madam,” he said aloud, and retired. 

Kitty had taken the note mechanically, but 
now as she sat staring at it, the colour ebbed 
from her face. The plain envelope was directed 
to her — in rather shaky writing — care of Miss 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


173 


Eisk, 366 Long Acre ; apparently Hilda’s ser- 
vant had sent the messenger on to Aberdare 
Mansions. 

Anthony West alone made any effort to sustain 
the conversation, but then he was the only person 
present to whom the incident appeared ordinary, 
and he, too, soon fell silent at the sight of the 
girl’s paUor. 

At last the host said gently : - “ Hadn’t you 
better open it. Mss Carstairs ? It may be 
nothing so very serious after aU.” 

Kitty seemed to nerve herself ; she even 
smiled faintly — as she tore away the flap. She 
took out a piece of ruled paper folded once — a 
page tom from a note-book — opened it, and forced 
herself to read the two lines scrawled upon it in 
pencil. 

Then the paper fell from her fingers, and with 
a little cry of pain she put up her hands and hid 
her face. 


M 


CHAPTEE XVII 


H ilda was the first to make a movement. 

She rose and passed quickly round the 
table to the apparently stricken girl. 

“ Kitty,” she said quietly, “ remember you are 
among friends here — ^friends, who will not permit 
any person or thing to harm you.” She laid a 
reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

The host also rose, signing to Colin and West 
to follow him from the room. But just then Kitty 
let her hands faU from her face. Ko longer was 
it pale, for the shock of fear was past, and her 
cheeks glowed with honest indignation. 

“ Mr. Eisk, please don’t go away,” she said 
a little rmsteadUy. “ I don’t wish any one to 
go away. I’m so sorry to upset everything like 
this ” 

“ Don’t worry about that,” Eisk said gently. 
“ As my sister has just remarked, we are your 
friends, and we are all ready and anxious to 
serve you. You really want us to remain I ” 

“ Please.” She turned to Hilda. “ I want you 
. 174 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


175 


to read it aloud,” she said, poiutmg to the note. 

Hilda picked up the paper, and she, too, flushed 
as her eyes took in the pencilled words. - 

“ The beast ! ” she muttered under her breath. 
She took West’s seat which he had vacated for her. 

, “ This note,” she announced, “ has neither 
address nor signature. It has evidently been 
pencilled by a person under the influence of 
rage, illness, or— alcohol. It asks : — ‘ Do your 
new friends know where you got the money 
that brought you to London ? ’ . . . That is 
all.” 

Colin went ruddy, half rose, and subsided 
with mingled feelings — anger at the insult to 
Kitty, dread lest for her sake he should be forced 
to confess to sending her the hundred pounds, 
and a sudden recognition that not so long ago 
he had held a similar piece of paper bearing an 
anonymous message in pencil. 

“ And now,” said Kitty in a steadier voice, 
though she was pale again, “ wiU you, please, 
teU them all you know about me, Hilda ; all 
I have told you about myself.” 

The host poured a little wine into a glass and 
set it before her, saying : “ My dear Miss Car- 
stairs, I want to know only one thing. Who is 
the unspeakable cad who wrote that ? ” 


176 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Kitty took a sip and smiled faintly. “ If yon 
can be bothered listening to my rather unpleasant 
little story, which I want Hilda to tell,” she said 
slowly, “ I think you may guess the writer’s 
name. At least, I can think of only one person 
who would do such a thing ” 

“ Symington ! ” brnst from Colin’s bps. 

“ The gentleman who, unfortunately, has never 
called here,” said Eisk quietly. 

“ Of course, it can be no other,” cried Hilda, 
in unwonted excitement. 

Cohn was on his feet. “ Mr. Eisk, wiU you 

excuse ” he was beginning when Sharp 

entered. 

“ Mr. Symington,” the servant intimated, 
“ wishes to speak with iliss Carstairs on the 
’phone.” 

There were blank looks until Hilda, with 
recovered coolness, said — 

“ Shaip, wUl you teU !Mr. Symington that iliss 
Carstairs is afi’aid of contamination, even over the 
wire.” 

“ Very good, Hilda, ” her brother remarked. 
“ Have you got it clearly. Sharp ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” the servant answered, and calmly 
repeated the words. Then he went out. 

Eisk turned to Cohn, who was still standing. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


177 


and gave a nod, murmuring : “ AH right, Hay- 
ward, we’ll excuse you. Good luck ! ” 

Colin bowed to the ladies, and with a curious 
set look on his face left the room. 

Hilda glanced at her brother, but said nothing. 
Kitty was feeling a little hurt, and, perhaps, 
a httle reheved also. Why should Cohn have 
wanted to escape hearing her story ? On the 
other hand, it would, perhaps, be less trying to 
hear it told without his presence. 

“ Let’s have coffee in the study, John,” said 
Hilda suddenly, “ and I’U try to do what Eatty 
asks. I do think you and Anthony ought to 
know how aboniinably she has been treated, 
especially as one of her wretched persecutors 
seems to be losing his head and getting to work 
again.” 

“ Personally,” said Eisk, “ I confess to acute 
curiosity. In two minutes we shall do as you 
suggest, Hilda. Meanwhile, Miss Carstairs, let 
us try to come to some agreement with West 
about the play.” 

It was a tactful ’suggestion, for Kitty was 
requiring a change of thought rather badly just 
then. 

Later, as they were passing to the study. Sharp 
got a word with his master in the haU. 


178 


KITTY CAKSTAIES 


“ Mr. Hayward asked me to tell you, sir, that 
he was making a call at the Kiugsway Grand 
Hotel, but that he did not expect to be long in 
returning.” 

“ Very weU. . . . Did he ask for anything 
before he left the house ? ” 

“ A flexible cane, sir, which I chanced to be 
able to provide.” 

Eisk nodded, and looking serious, was about 
to follow his guests, when a thought seemed to 
strike him. 

“ Sharp, did Mr. Symington make any response 
to the message?” 

“ He did, sir.” 

“ What did he say ? ” 

Sharp hesitated, “ Well, sir,” he replied at last, 
solemnly, “ I should say he contaminated the 
wire, sir ! ” 

In common justice it should be stated here that 
Alexander Symington was not a faithful slave 
to alcohol. As a rule he kept the upper hand. 
A fuU record of his adult hfe, however, woifld 
show that at long intervals and at times of extreme 
excitement, he lost his grip, fell, and simply wal- 
lowed. His collapse on this occasion was probably 
the result of his converting a hundred Zeniths 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


179 


into nearly five hnndred pounds sterling. With 
pockets full of notes and gold, and "with the sure 
prospect of being able to refiU them as soon as 
emptied — ^refill them over and bver again — ^it is 
small wonder that he became reckless in an ab- 
normal degree. At all events, the money was 
not in his pockets for an horn.' when, with the 
assistance of a couple of fellows no finer-souled 
than himself, he entered upon a bout of dissipation 
as wild as it was varied. Even Kitty was for- 
gotten. . . . 

And now he was in process of “ coming to him- 
self ” — and a very unpleasing process it was. 
Physically, though weakened, he was less dis- 
organized than might have been expected ; men- 
tally, however, his state was that of extreme 
annoyance with himself and savage resentment 
against the world in general, and two persons in 
particular. He could not remember all the 
idiotic acts he had committed in the course of 
those crazy days and nights, but he was clearly 
and disagreeably aware that besides squandering 
four hundred and seventy pormds, he had pre- 
sented his two boon companions with a hundred 
Zeniths apiece for no reason or 'purpose that he 
could soberly name. He was further tormented 
by the bitter reflection that he had wasted ten 


180 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


valuable days. For all be knew, Kitty, in that 
period, might have put herself beyond his reach 
for good and all. Also he had lately received 
from Corrie a somewhat peremptory note re- 
questing him to report progress, and breathing a 
novel and unpleasant spirit of independence. 

It was in this harassed condition, and with a 
still clouded intelligence, that he had obeyed the 
two impulses in the direction of Kitty, of which 
we have seen the results — so far. And now, not 
so many minutes after the telephone episode, he 
was already cmsing himself for a silly fool, and 
asking what madness was upon him that he should 
have as good as warned the girl against himself. 

He had determined to spend this evening in the 
sitting-room of his suite reserved in the Kingsway 
Grand Hotel, a hostelry largely patronized by 
rmattached gentlemen with money to burn. An 
hour ago he had dined very lightly and tem- 
perately, but the' reaction from the previous 
over-indulgence had soon afterwards demanded 
more stimulant, and a pint bottle of champagne 
stood on a small table convenient to his easy 
chair. He was expecting his two friends, but 
hoping that something — a motor accident, fatal, 
for choice — might yet prevent them from turning 
up. It would be many a day before he forgave 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


181 


these two, for although he had freely presented 
them the Zeniths, he now regarded them about as 
kindly as if they had robbed him. 

He lit a cigarette with an imsteady hand, took 
a mouthful of wine and lay back in his chair, 
sluggish of body, sullen of soul. When, a moment 
later, he heard the door open, he swore under his 
breath, but did not so much as turn his head. 
He anticipated a greeting as the door was shut — 
a bluff greeting of the “ What ho ” order ; where- 
fore the words that came after a brief pause were 
something of a shock. 

“ You swine ! ” 

He started up to see “ young Hayward ” stand- 
ing over him, with a look in his eyes that boded 
anything but goodwill. 

Colin was full of fury, but it [was the frigid sort. 

“ What the deuce do you want ? ” said Sym- 
ington at last, and Ihis hand stole behind him. 
His recent pleasure-hunt had included visits to 
one or two rather queer comers of London town, 
down by the docks. 

“ What you want is a thrashing,” answered 
Cohn, “ and I’m here to give it you.” 

Symington’s complexion went from scarlet to 
grey. 

“ What the 


do you mean by intruding 


182 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


here ? If you don’t clear out ” His hand 

went up with a glitter. “ Out of this, you young 
fool, or by ” 

Swish ! Like a flash the whangee cane smote 
his knuckles. With a cry he let drop the weapon. 
Colin kicked it across the room. 

Hissing with wrath and pain, Symington sprang 
up and made a dash for the bell. Ko use ! He 
was seized by the collar, shaken vigorously, then 
dragged to the table in the centre of the room, 
from which the dessert had not been removed. 
Mercilessly he was thrown across it, his face in a 
dish of raisins, and in that undignifled position, 
vainly struggling, he received a most painful 
chastisement. 

Often afterwards Cohn, whose weight and 
muscle were nothing exceptional, would wonder 
how on earth he had managed to handle success- 
fully a heavy man hke Symington ; but love and 
hate combined with honest rage gave him, for the 
time being, the strength of three, and moreover 
his victim was flabby after a long debauch. 

The noise of the caning coupled with the in- 
voluntary exclamations of the suJfferer were, 
however, not long in attracting attention, and a 
knock on the door warned Cohn that it was time 
to desist. Puttmg his whole heart into a flnal 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


185 


cut, wMcli brought forth a yelp of anguish, he 
loosed his grip, saying rather breathlessly — 

“ That is the reply to your anonymous notes, 
Mr. Symington, and if you want to call the police 
now, pray do so.” 

A waiter, mouth open, was staring from the 
doorway. 

Sy min gton stood up, his expression devilish. 
He had a fruit knife in his hand — a frail, pretty 
thing, yet pointed. He lunged at his enemy’s 
face. Again the cane swished, and the knife 
fell to the floor. 

“ Gentlemen,” gasped the waiter. 

“ WeU ? ” inquired Cohn. “ Is it to be the 
pohce ? ” 

“ Damn you ! Get out of this ! I’ll make 
you sorrier than any pohce judge could do.” 

“ Very weU,” said Cohn, turning to the door. 
“ In the meantime,” he added, over his shoulder, 
“ if I were you, I’d get the waiter to remove the 
raisins from your chin and left eyebrow.” With 
that, perhaps the unkindest cut of ah, he went 
out, leaving Symington almost beside himself 
with passion. 

As for the waiter, the unfortunate creature 
was so tactless as to smile at the raisins, and two 
days later he was dismissed from the hotel service. 


184 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


As soon as lie reached the street, Colin realized 
that he was shaking all over. “ What a rage I 
must have been in ! ” he said to himself, half 
gladly, half ruefully. 

WeU, I guess he won’t trouble Kitty again, 
and I don’t see how he’s going to get at me.” 

But Cohn did not know Symington, or he would 
have, at least, quahfied his confidence. As a 
matter of fact, by thrashing the man he had simply 
turned a cad into a blackguard. But he drove 
back to Aberdare Mansions feeling that he had 
been able to do something for his beloved after 
ah, though she must never know of it, and he 
arrived there happier than he had been for months. 

Eisk met him in the hall with a quizzical smUe. 

“ Found him out, I suppose, Hayward ? ” 

“ That’s for you to do, Mr. Eisk,” was the blithe 
reply. “ I found him in, and I fancy he’U not 
move far to-night, at all events.” 

“ Don’t teU me,” said Eisk, his eyes on the cane, 
“ you whacked the beggar ! ” 

“ To the best of my ability.” Colin found his 
hand being shaken. 

“ It was splendid, Hayward,” Eisk said gravely, 
“ and we must hope it was also wise. Kow we’ll 
forget about it for the present. Come along and 
have your coffee. We have heard Miss Carstairs’ 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


185 


story, and West and I are her willing servants, 
till she comes to her own. But, of course, she 
must not know we are working for her, and she 
must, if possible, be induced to forget those ugly 
little incidents Of to-night — or, at any rate, be 
prevented from dwelling on them.” 

A couple of hours later, the night being ex- 
quisite, Cohn walked home with Kitty, West 
escorting Hilda. 

“ Mr. Eisk is giving you plenty to do, isn’t 
he ? ” Kitty remarked, making an effort to shake 
off the feehng of restraint that had come upon her 
on finding herself alone with Cohn. 

“ Yes,” said Cohn, who was hampered by a 
similar sensation. “ But he’s worth working for. 
He has given me a chance that I might have 
sought in vain aU my life. But never mind about 
me, Kitty,” he went on. “ I wish very much to 
know what you — or rather Miss Eisk — told the 
others while I was absent to-night.” 

“ I think I’d rather not talk about it,” she 
said, after a short pause. “ Mr. West, or Mr. 
Eisk, wih teU you, if you reaUy want to know.” 

“ Kitty, why do you say that, and in such a 
tone ? ” 

“ Why did you go away almost as soon as I 
asked Hilda to teU my story ? ” 


186 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ Why ? Well, because — ” he hesitated — “ be- 
cause it suddenly occurred to me that — that there 
was a thing I must attend to,” he concluded 
lamely. “ Good heavens, Kitty, you surely didn’t 
imagine that I was anything but keen to hear 
your story ! Ever since I learned you were in 
London I’ve been wondering how the great 
change came about.” 

His earnestness overcame her doubts. 

“ I’m a horrid thing, Colin,” she declared self- 
reproachfully, “ but I wanted to make sure that 
you did not despise me — — ” 

“ Despise you ! ” 

“ — ^for running away from Dunford, and for 
accepting the kindness of strangers as I have 
done.” 

“ What an absurd idea, Kitty ! I won’t tel^ 
you how glad I was to hear you were in London 
and in the care of such friends. Show that you 
trust me a httle better by telling me how it aU 
came about. By the way, have you heard from 
Dimford since you left % ” 

She shook her head. “ I sent my aunt my 
address, and told her I was^aU right, but she has 
not answered. Well, I’m not so surprised at 
that as at not hearing from Sam, the postman. 
It was he who helped me to get away ” 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


187 


“ Won’t you begin at tbe beginning ? ” 

“ Very well — only you must promise not to 
discuss it afterwards. It’s not a pretty story, 
CoKn, and only in seif-protection did I ask Hilda 
to tell it to-nigbt. Well, here it is.” 

She told it simply and in few words, and he 
heard her to the end without 'a single interruption. 
Kow and then, indeed, when her voice wavered, 
he would have given all his future to have taken 
her for one moment into his arms. The incident 
of the £100 brought a flush to his face, while he 
blessed the thought that had caused him to send 
her the means for escape ; but the tale of her 
rmcle’s hideous treachery turned him ghastly with 
wrath and pity. 

“ And so,” she finished, “ the journey that 
started so miserably ended most wonderfully, and 
here I am with aU my dreams come true ” — she 
gave a small rueful laugh — “ except one. For I 
used to dream of, being brave and independent 

and even adventurous ; and now ” 

“ Oh, Kitty, thank God you didn’t arrive in 
London alone ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ I do,” she retmned ’softly. “ I was a little 
fool to imagine I could ever have stood alone and 
made my own way. I’m self-supporting now 
with my typing, but that’s all thanks to Hilda. 


188 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


Colin, did you ever hear of anything so wonderful 
as the way t hing s have turned out for me ? Do 
you know, once or twice I’ve thought it might all 
have been planned out by Mr. Eisk — that he, for 
my father’s sake, might have been secretly watch- 
ing over me. . . . Some day, when I know him 
better, I’U ask him straight about the £100. 
Don’t you thiuk I might do that ? ” 

“ Certaioly,” said Colin cheerfully. “ And so 
now you are perfectly happy, Kitty ? •” 

“ Yes, I am ! ” she answered, with just a trace 
of defiance. She was not going to admit that 
there was something lacking, and perhaps she was 
not quite sure what the “ something ” was. And, 
of course, it was nothing to her that Colin, earlie 
in the evening, had appeared to be greatly taken 
with Hilda — and Hilda’s lovely eyes ! 

Later, he mentioned that West and he desired 
to take her and Hilda to a theatre on the coming 
Friday. Kitty had already been to several 
theatres, yet, somehow, the prospect thrilled her 
more than it had done prior to previous visits, 
though her acceptance of the invitation, given 
subject to Hilda’s approval, was little more than 
polite. 

They were nearly home when Cohn said rather 
diffidently — 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


189 


“ I’ve promised not to discuss Dunford or the 
people there, but, Kitty, I’d iust like to hear that 
you are no longer afraid of that wretched worm,, 
Symington.” 

After a moment she replied : “ Ko, Cohn. 

For that moment, at dinner, I was afraid, horribly 
afraid, I admit. But I’ve got over it. For what 
can the man do ? ” 


CHAPTEE XVIII 

S INCE last we saw them John and Eachel 
Corrie, apart from the conversation necessi- 
tated by business, had scarcely spoken to each 
other. The man kept a suUen silence, lest in 
speech he might betray his real intentions ; the 
woman, having come to mistrust in all his ways 
the being whom she loved more than herself, held 
her peace lest she should lead him into sel£-be-' 
trayal, for now she feared the worst so greatly 
that she could not face the sure knowledge thereof. 
Eachel knew by this time why she had keard no 
more from Kitty. Her three letters to the girl 
had never passed beyond the post ofifice — she had 
actually and secretly witnessed her brother de- 
stroy the last — and she naturally assumed’that if 
Kitty had written again, her letter had met a 
similar fate. 

Although the new assistant and postman were 
conversant with their duties, Corrie never failed 
to postmark with his own hand both outward and 
190 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


191 


inward mails. His manner had become disagree- 
ably furtive ; always he seemed to be watching, 
waiting for something to happen. Eachel’s poor 
heart bled for him ; she blamed the sin more than 
the sinner ; and she would have given her soul 
to save his. Kight after night she lay long awake, 
brooding, scheming to the end that he might be 
rescued — ^in a worldly sense, to begin with. She 
fondly believed that if he were drawn back from 
his present sinning, his Life for the future would 
be sinless. She believed, also, that it was Sym- 
ington whom she would have to overcome in the 
first place. To Eachel Corrie, Symington, in the 
night watches, appeared as Satan himself. 

And at last, at a sultry midnight, such a mid- 
night as had witnessed her dreadful deed for her 
brother’s sake, a vague idea drifted, from Heaven 
knows where, into her distracted, weary mind, 
and lodged there. Ere she slept it had developed 
to a grim purpose, which even the searching light 
of morning could not weaken. 

She would render Symington powerless, helpless, 
by depriving him of the Zenith certificates ! . . . 
But how ? It cost her many more sleepless hours 
and much aching thought before she could answer 
the question. But eventually, the way was 
found, and while it appalled her, she would not 


192 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


turn back. However, sbe would bave to bide 
ber time. For one thing, tbe mill was at present 
too busy — tbe mill wbicb, you will remember, 
was one of John Gorrie’s properties apart from tbe 
general store — and tbe mill was involved in ber 
scheme. For another, a word with Symington 
might bave helpful results. 

It was on tbe third evening following that of bis 
castigation that Symington appeared in Dunford. 
He came in response to a curt note from tbe post- 
master : “ It is time you and me bad a talk. 
Look sharp.” A telegram preceded him. For 
tbe first time since bis last visit Corrie mentioned 
tbe man’s name to Eacbel. 

“ Symington’ll be here ’tween eight and nine.” 

“I’ll be out,” sbe returned calmly. 

For a mopient be was taken aback. Then — 
“ As ye please,” be said, and after a sbgbt pause 
added : “I expect your niece’ll get tbe shares 
before long.” 

He did not look at her, nor did sbe at him as sbe 
repbed — 

“ Very well, John. I’ll be glad when it’s a’ 
settled.” 

She left tbe bouse at tbe hour tbe train was due, 
and took tbe road wbicb led to White Farm and 
also to tbe mill, a couple of miles farther on. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


193 


Symington arrived at the cottage in a bad 
humour. 

“ What the devil do you keep on bothering me 
for ? ” he demanded the moment he was in the 
parlour. “ I’m going ahead as quickly as I can. 
Do you want me to ruin the whole thing by rush- 
ing it.” 

“ Ko use in losing your temper,” said Coriie 
coldly. “ It’s a fortnight past since ye started 
to get a hold o’ the girl. I want to ken what 
ye’ve been doing in London, besides enjoying 
yourself.” 

“ Don’t talk about enjoyment ! I teU you 
I’ve been busy the whole time.” 

“ WeU, what ha’ ye done ? ” 

Symington took out a cigar. “ Look here — 
what are you trying to drive me for ? What’s at 
the back of this cry for haste ? ” 

“ There’s a chance o’ the postman getting 
better.” 

“ WeU, curse him for a nuisance, and you for a 
bimgler ! ” 

“ Mind, I’ve got that letter ! ” snarled Corrie. 

“ You’d never use it ? . . . However, I may 
teU you that I’ve completed my arrangements for 
the capture of Miss Kitty.” 

“ And what may they be ? ” 


194 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ I think I’d better not tell you. You’re so 
tender-hearted ! ” 

A grey shadow came over Corrie’s face. “ Is — 
is it going to hurt her^? ” he whispered. “ I canna 
consent to her bemg hurt — seriously.” 

Symington laughed shortly. “ You thmk I’d 
hurt Kitty, do you ? Sometimes I fancy you’re a 
bit cracked, Corrie ! Well, I must admit it’s 
going to be a little unpleasant, inconvenient, for 
her — ^but nothing worse. She’s going to dis- 
appear for a time ” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ You’re better not to know in case you’re 
asked — see ? ” 

The postmaster pludked at his lower Kp. 
“ Maybe,” he mumbled, “ maybe.” 

“ And yormg Hayward’s goiug to disappear 
likewise.” 

“ God ! Are ye no’ afraid ? . . . But how 
am I to believe ye ? ” 

“ Give me four days — a week at most. Now, 
don’t ask any more questions, for I’m not going 
to answer them. As I said, you’re better not to 
know anything.” 

“ Just one. How long’ll it take, think ye to — 
to make her give in ? ” 

Symington had drunk a good deal of wine on 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


195 


the train, or he might not have answered as he did. 

“ How long does it take to starve a healthy 
man ? ” 

♦ J|: * * * 

In the dusk Symington was nearing the farm 
when, from a gate in the hedge, Eachel Oorrie 
stepped into his path. 

“ I want a word wi’ ye, Mr. Symington,” she 
said bluntly. 

“ WeU ? ” 

“ And first I’ll tell ye that John doesna ken 
o’ this.” 

“ Go on.” He was annoyed at the iuterruption, 
for he had much to think of before he slept that 
night, and he was returning to London by the 
early morning train. Also he was tormented by 
a craving for something to drink. 

“ ’Tis about the Zeniths,” she proceeded. 

“ Hone of your business, I should say. Miss 
Corrie.” 

“ I say different. But I only want ye to satisfy 
me that ye are dealing fair with my brother ” 

“ How dare you insinuate ” 

“ Ho need for temper,” she went on steadily. 
“ John maybe woT|ldna hke to ask ye himself, 
but I’m going to put a straight question, for it’s 
been on my mind for a while now 


196 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Kitidly come to the point.” 

I -will ! Have ye or have ye not parted wi’ 
any o’ the shares ? ” 

His indignation was well assumed. “ If you 
were a man ” he began. 

“ But I’m only a woman, and not one of the 
blind, trusting sort, Mr. Symington. Still, I’m 
as curious as any.” 

Suddenly he gave an ironic laugh. “ Very 
well. Miss Oorrie; I don’t want you to lose any 
more of your beauty sleep, so I give you my word 
that ” 

“ And ye’ll let me see the certificates. Mi*. 
Symington,” she interrupted very firmly. 

For an instant he hesitated. He might tell 
her that they were in his banter’s safe. But no : 
better exhibit them and have done with the 
matter. 

“ If I was not aware of your affection for your 
brother,” he said, “ I’d consider your request 
an insult, and refuse it point-blank. However, 
you can come along to the house and be satisfied.” 

He prepared for other questions, but she asked 
none, and presently he was showing her into the 
farm-house parlour, saying : “ I’ll fetch them at 
once.” 

She waited in the twilight, listening with all her 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


197 


nerves, as it were. She heard him go upstairs, 
she counted his movements in the room directly 
overhead. 

Symington knew he was taking no small risk. 
Originally the certificates, folded separately, had 
made a tape-tied brmdle of ten, each certificate 
representing five hundred shares. Kow there 
were only nine. But Symington took from his 
pocket a certificate for one hundred shares, and 
inserted it in the bundle. He could not tell how 
famihar she might be with the documents, but he 
trusted that she would be satisfied with finding 
the number of them correct, and reckoned that 
if she did insist on examining them separately, 
the dusk would prevent her detecting the dis- 
crepancy. So he came downstairs, whistling. 

“ Thank ye,” she said at once, without even 
touching the bundle ; “ I’U be getting home now.” 

For she had discovered what she wanted to 
know — not with her eyes, but with her ears. 

“ Silly old fool ! ” Symington remarked to 
himself, much relieved, as he went upstairs again. 
“ I needn’t go on worrying about her, anyway.” 

He entered his bedroom, returned the one 
hundred share certificate to his pocket, and 
deposited the bundle in an immensely heavy 
oaken chest, steel-bound and fastened to the 


198 


KITTY OABSTAIES 


floor in the window. It had been the Symington 
“ strong box ” for generations. Only lately had 
the idea of superseding it with a modern safe 
occurred to the present owner. 

“ I’U write to Glasgow for a price list to-night,” 
he thought, withdrawiug the queer, stumpy key, 
and replacing the ehintz cover, which gave the 
chest something of [the appearance of an ottoman. 
“ Yes ; I’ll write to-night.” Just then his im- 
portunate thirst assailed him once more, and 
drove him downstairs to a cupboard in the parlour 


CHAPTBE XIX 


O XE morning, about a week later, John Eisk^ 
on his arrival m the City, found his sister 
waiting in his private office. 

“ I’m ordered to Newcastle to-morrow, for a 
couple of days,” she informed him. “ What am 
I to do about Kitty ? Naturally, she’d imagine 
aU sorts of things if I told her she must not leave 
the flat during my absence, and I can hardly 

afford to tell the editor I don’Ji; ” 

“ You can take her with you, Hilda. Why 
not make a little holiday of it, and when you’ve 
finished the job at Newcastle, take a week by the 
sea somewhere? You’ve had no break this 
summer. You’re looking a bit fagged. Of course 
I’ll stand the racket.” 

“ Dear old thing, I don’t believe I can refuse ! ” 
she cried. 

“ Good ! I’U post you a cheque before midday. 
But now I must ask you to run away. This is 
my busy morning. By the way, you can tell 
199 


200 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Miss Kitty that the play is going on almost imme- 
diately. West caved in last night, and agreed 
to take his share, and, as luck would have it, 

’s recent venture has turned out a frost, and 

the theatre is available ” 

“ John ! how many thousands is this going to 
cost you ? ” 

“.Kone, I think. I believe in the play. How- 
ever, that’s none of your business. You don’t 
think any the less of West for taking his share ? ” 

“ Ko, indeed ! Besides Kitty forced him by 
declaring she would not have the play go on at 
all, if he refused. — ^Well, I’m off,” said Hilda rather 
hurriedly, and with some colour in her cheeks. 

“ One moment. You haven’t been followed 
by that man, have you ? ” he inquired. 

. “ Ko. Why do you ask ? I’d have told you.” 

“ So you would, my dear. Symington is in 
town at present, and I happen to know he has been 
selling more shares.” 

“ Oh ! . . . But, John, isn’t it time to act ? ” 

“ Very nearly, I hope. That’s all, Hilda. 
Good luck to your holiday.” 

She kissed him and went out. A slight frown 
crossed his forehead for a moment. Then he 
pressed one of several buttons on his desk. 

OoUn entered. He had a letter in his hand. 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


201 


“ May I speak first, Mr. Eisk ? I’ve been 
waiting to show you this.” He banded over tbe 
letter ; it was from tbe superintendent of tbe 
hospital where Sam tbe postman lay. 

“ Ab ! ” exclaimed Eisk, “ this is what was 
wanted ! ‘ Tbe operation on tbe skuU has been 

successful,’ be read, ‘ and tbe patient is now well 
enough to give you a short interview.’ . . . 
Hayward, you must go Kortb by tbe first train, 
learn aU you can, and instruct him to bold bis 
tongue for tbe present.” 

“T can catch tbe 11.30 train,” said CoUn, 
who was already acquiring tbe decisive ways of 
bis friend and employer, “ and may be there in 
time to see him to-night. You wish me to return 
at once ? ” 

“ I want you to take in Dunford on your way 
back and get , me one or two photos. I’ll give 
you a note of what I require along with tbe 
camera. But that needn’t take you more than a 
couple of hours. Don’t you want to look up 
your people ? ” 

“ They’re aU from home this month — ^tbank you 
for thinking of it. I ought to tell you that my 
father and I have made it up — ^through tbe post.” 

“ That’s right ! Kow, before you go, will you 
do me a rough sketch of tbe postman’s bouse 


202 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


before it was burned — that is, a drawing of tbe 
front, shoAving door, windows, etc., as correctly 
proportioned as you can make them. Jot the 
colourings at the side. . . . One thing more : 
you might break your return journey at New- 
castle, for an hour or so. My sister and Miss 
Carstairs will be there to-morrow. I’ll wire you 
where to find them to the hospital this afternoon.” 

Colin felt grateful, but merely returned a “ Very 
weU, Mr. Eisk,” and he hastened to his own office 
to get through the work on hand. The request 
for a sketch of Sam’s old house puzzled him, as 
did the photographic business, but he possessed 
the valuable wit for knowing when to suppress 
questions. 

Eisk immediately plunged into a small ocean 
of correspondence. He had an extraordinary 
number of financial interests, and they really 
interested him apart from their finance. . . . 

A secretary entered. 

“ Mr. Boon, of the Westminster Film Co., is 
here, sir. He has an appointment with you.” 

Eisk glanced at the clock. “ In two minutes,” 
he said, returning to the correspondence, “ show 
him in.” 

The secretary knew by this time that two 
minutes to Mr. Eisk meant exactly 120 seconds 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


203 


and on the 121st Mr. Boon was admitted. His 
visit lasted about fifteen minutes. 

Before he left he was introduced to Cohn, with 
whom he had a few minutes’ conversation, which 
was probably more enhghtening to himself than 
to the young man ; and he took away with him 
the rude sketch of the Dunford postman’s abode. 

Eather late in the evening Cohn, by special 
permission, was sitting at Sam’s bedside. The 
postman was stfil weak, and the nurse had warned 
the visitor against anything in the way of excite- 
ment, but his memory was clear enough, and there 
was not, after ah, a great deal to be remembered. 
Cohn was soon in possession of the few facts 
worth having ; they formed, at least, a valuable 
httle appendix to Kitty’s story. As to his 
assailant on the night of the fire, Sam frankly 
admitted that he had nothing better than sus- 
picions to offer ; yet he was convinced that the 
house had been dehberately set on fire, and that 
he had been assaulted in his weakness either by 
Corrie, or Symington, or both. 

But Sam was not greatly interested in his own 
affairs. Time enough to think of punishment 
and revenge when he was on his feet again, he 
declared. He wanted to hear about Kitty. 


204 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


Colin did Ms best to oblige him, leaving out, of 
course, all reference to Symington’s last outbreak, 
and explaining that Kitty was not yet aware of 
her old friend’s misfortune and illness. 

“ Quite right, quite right,” said Sam. “ So 
long as she’s in good health, and wi’ kind friends, 
I’m content. And before long I’ll be getting the 
letter ye say she wrote me, just after she got to 
London. Ye see, we couldna trust Corrie, and 
she would send it to Peter Hart, the shepherd, 
in the next postal district.” 

“ I’m going to tell her simply that you’ve had 
an accident,” said Colin, “ so you may expect a 
new letter from her immediately. ... Kow I 
see the nurse looking at me, and I suppose my 
time is up. But I must tell you, from Mr. Eisk, 
that your house will be rebuilt, and ready for you 
by the time you are ready for it. Kot a word, 
Sam ! It’s no use arguing with Mr. Eisk, I 
know ! . . . Well, I must go. Keep everything 
a secret for the present.” 

Sam clung to the young man’s hand. “ Tell 
her,” he whispered, “ to look out for Symington. 
Tell her the news o’ her has done me a power o’ 
good. Good luck to ye, Mr. Colin — ^good luck 
to ye both.” 

Colin hurried to the inn, wrote a letter, and 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


205 


just managed to catch the late night mail for the 
south. The letter would reach Eisk by the 
second morning delivery. Then he re-read the 
telegram he had found waiting for him at the 
hospital. It seemed to give him pleasant thoughts, 
for he smiled. It was from Hilda, and invited 
him to take tea the following afternoon in the 
Station Hotel, Newcastle. 

Next morning he stepped from the early train 
at Dunford. In order to turn aside any local 
curiosity, he went straight to his father’s house, 
and got the caretaker to give him breakfast, ex- 
plaining that he had called on his way to London 
to collect one or two small articles from his old 
room. Thereafter he strolled around with his 
hand-camera and secured some “ souvenir snap- 
shots,” as he put it to an interested villager. 
In the course of his stroU he recorded — surrep- 
tiously, it should be remarked — a view of the’ 
back of Corrie’s cottage, and another of the scene 
immediately in front of Sam’s ruined dwelling. 

Passing the post office on the way to the station, 
he obtained a glimpse of Corrie talking to a farmer 
in the doorway. Though he detested the man 
with all his soul, he was tempted to make room 
for a little pity, so haggard and wretched was 
the postmaster’s appearance. Corrie, after a 


o 


206 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


slight start, gave a perfunctory wave of saluta- 
tion, which Colin, feeling a hypocrite, returned. 

By noon he was in the train again, counting the 
miles to Newcastle. Within half an hour of the 
train’s leaving Dunford, Corrie dispatched a 
telegram to Symington — “ Left at 11.50.” 

About the same hour in London, a message was 
flashed North to greet our traveller with a great 
disappointment. He had to change at Carlisle ; 
and as he was boarding the Newcastle train there, 
his heart full of Kitty, hope struggling once more 
against resignation, an official carryiug an orange 
envelope came along mquiring for “a Mr. Colin 
Hayward.” And presently Cohn was reading 
Eisk’s message — 

“ Urgent. Eeturn straight to London.” 

There was just time to rush back to the express 
train he had so recently left. Afterwards there 
was more than enough timepor wonder and worry. 


CHAPTEE XX 


O X tlie afternoon of the same day, which 
happened to be the weekly half-holiday, 
Eachel Corrie returned from a longish walk under- 
taken, as she had announced to her brother at 
dinner, in the hope of relieving a severe headache. 
In these days it was for her a rare occurrence to 
leave the house at all, and a common one to have 
a headache, but Corrie had been too self-engrossed 
to be moved by surprise or sympathy. 

Entering the cottage, Eachel certainly did not 
look much the better of the outing ; she seemed, 
in fact, to be suffering from a faintness, for at 
first she leaned awhile against the closed door, and 
she Crept slowly and imsteadily up the passage, 
keeping her hand on the wall for support. Pre- 
sently she was peering into the darkened shop ; 
listening, also. Ere long her brother’s voice 
came indistinctly from the post office beyond ; 
she gathered that he was checking figures witMthe 
assistant. Eachel appeared to nerve herself, 
207 


208 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


tlien stepped stealthily into the shop. On a nail 
in the wall, just behind the door, she hung a pon- 
derous key — the spare key of the mill, which had 
been idle that day for the first time in several 
weeks. For fully a minute she stood motionless 
save for her breathing, her hand pressed hard 
to her heart ; then, with a heavy sigh, she stole 
out and laboriously ascended to her room. She 
was wholly spent as she fell upon her bed, yet at 
the end of an hour she was down in the kitchen 
preparing the evening meal, to which her brother 
would come when he had finished with the inward 
evening mail. 

Of late John Corrie’s appetite had been in- 
different ; to-night it seemed to have failed him 
altogether. He sat there speechless, now and 
then taking a sup of tea, and never once allowing 
his gaze to fall on his sister — not that she, poor 
soul, could have met it for an instant. Neverthe- 
less, at last she forced herself to speak. 

“ Can ye no’ eat, John ? ” 

He shook his head impatiently. “ Let me be. 
I’m no’ hungry.” 

With her eyes on the cloth she said in a strange 
gentleness of tone : “ John, dinna trouble over 
much. Maybe everything ’ll come right yet. 
Dinna be vexed wi’ me, but I believe — John, I 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


209 


believe that if ye took pen now and wrote to Kitty, 

telling her the truth ” She stopped short, 

so dreadful was his expression. 

“ Let that be,” he growled, “ or ye’ll drive me 
stark mad. Peaee ! — ^no’ another word ! ” He 
got up and strode from the room. 

In his pocket was a letter, the postmark on 
which would have told that it had been posted 
in London about midnight ; a letter which he 
had been expecting for days, consisting of one 
pencilled word — “ Arrested ” — with neither ad- 
dress nor signature. And by that sohtary word 
Corrie’s soul was racked, as between a man’s last 
hope and his final terror. 

Alone, Eachel put her hand to her face. 

“ Oh God,” she murmured, “ if only it had 
been possible. . . . But now the candle mun be 
left to burn — ^burn to the end. . . . Maybe — 
oh, surely — I’ll save him yet.” 

In her methodical way she cleared the table, 
washed the dishes, and set the kitchen in order. 
Afterwards she sat by the fire and tried to read 
the morning’s paper. She noticed that on the 
previous day Zeniths had risen to £6, but the 
sensational advance moved her not at aU. Long 
after she had ceased to read she kept staring at the 
printed page. At seven o’clock, feeling her 


210 


KITTY OAKSTAIES 


strength ebbing, and knowing how vital it was 
that she should conserve every spark of energy 
in her, she went up to her room and lay down. 
There was stiU another hour, possibly more, 
to wait and endure. ... 

At last — at last the sound of running and 
excited shouts ... a thundering on the door 
below . . . the opening of the door — 

“Mr. Corrie, the mill’s on fire!” 

A pause that seemed an age, then her brother’s 
voice, harsh, yet almost calm — 

“ Eachel, the mill’s on fire ! ” 

“ I’m coming,” she tried to call, producing 
naught but a croak. 

She got to the window in time to see him hasten- 
iug away in the failing light. She made no 
attempt to follow just then. She lingered, 
crouching there behind the curtain, until the 
heavy silence informed her that practically the 
whole population of Dunford had bolted to the 
scene of destruction. Then body and wits under 
control once more, she took the implements she 
had prepared, cloaked herself and set out on the 
road to the mill. Kot a soul was in sight. 

Her destination was the White Farm. At the 
door she knocked, ready to plead faintness should 
the unexpected happen. But no one came. She 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


211 


had gauged pretty accurately the duty sense of 
housekeeper and servants in the master’s absence. 
One and all had incontinently deserted the place 
and their occupations to see the fire she had raised. 
A chained dog barked wildly ; she did not appear 
to hear it. 

The door was not locked. She entered and 
without hesitation climbed the stair. She had 
been welcome in the house in the old and happier 
days of. Symington’s parents. She had often 
seen the strong box in its original place in the 
sitting-room. Doubtless it was upstairs. She 
was counting on that. If he had lately got a safe 
she had burned the mill to no purpose. . . . But 
God would not let her be cheated so, for was it 
not all done for her brother’s salvation ? . . . 

And now she was m the apartment above the 
sitting-room. The Light was very dim, but she 
soon found what she sought. In a moment the 
chintz cover was off and laid aside. Then in a 
sort of splendid fury, with heavy, powerful tools, 
she attacked the lock, wrenching, twistiag, 
thrusting, driving, heedless of the attendant noise. 

And at last the mauled and shattered thing 
gave. With a fierce blow of hammer on sturdy 
screw-driver she drove it inwards. The heavy 
lid 5delded. The bundle of Zenith certificates 


212 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


were there for her to take. She hid them m her 
dress. ... 

She swept up the smallest trace of her work, 
closed the M, and neatly replaced the chintz 
cover. There would be no discovery till Sym- 
ington himself made it. As sh 3 left the house 
she glimpsed, away to the left, a smoky glow, over 
the hollow that hid the mill. Without a second 
glance she set out for home along the still deserted 
road. 

Having bolted the cottage door and returned 
the tools to their place, she sat down to examine 
her prize. 

“ The scoundrel has parted wi’ 500 shares ! ” 
she muttered after a careful recount of the certifi- 
cates. “ Poor John, it was an evil day when ye 
let Alec Symington into this house. But Kitty ’ll 
forgive ye a tenth part o’ her fortrme — if she 
doesna. I’ll offer her every penny I possess. Oh, 
John, I think I’ve saved ye ; and some day I’ll 
confess to ye about the mill. I’ll never regret 
it. . . . But what’s this ? ” 

She had become conscious of a folded paper, 
rmUke in texture the certificates, lying on her lap. 
She must have inadvertently picked it from the 
strong box along with the bundle. It was en- 
dorsed “ Lease of House at ' 73 Lester Eoad, 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


213 


Eiclimond, Surrey.” She opened it and 
read. ... 

“ So he’s got a house at that place,” she re- 
flected. “ Well, it’s none o’ my business. I 
wonder if John kens. Likely no. . . . I’ll ha’ 
to try to put it back in the box — no ! I’ll risk 
nothing for that scoundrel’s sake ! He can want 
his lease ! ” She made to toss it into the fire, 
then drew back. “ I’ll keep it in the meantime 
along wi’ the shares till the time comes for telling 
John. . . . The sooner they’re hid the better.” 
She rose, and stood wavering. “ Oh, God, but 
I’m weak,” she whispered. “ Help me to win 
through.” 

It was late when h'er brother came in, begrimed 
and drenched. She had a meat all but ready for 
him. 

“ Tell me about it, John,” she said, as he came 
to the fire in dry garments. “ I couldna gang — 
couldna bear to see it.” 

“Ye would ha’ seen a grand blaze,” he returned 
bitterly. “ There’s nothing left — new machinery 
and aU ! ” 

“ WeU, well,” she said soothingly, “ it’s a fine 
thing an insurance poUcy.” , 

“ Very fine — when ye’ve paid the premium.” 


214 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


Stopping short in her hospitable task, she 
stared at him. “ But ye ha’ paid it a month 
back ! ” 

“ Did I ? . . . The days o’ grace were up 
three weeks back, but — ^but I had — ower many 
other things to thiuk about.” A groan burst 
from him, he put his hands to his head. “ Three 
thousand pound gone up m three hours ! ” 

Eachel’s mouth opened, but she was dumb. 
As if frozen she stood there by the table, a plate 
of cut bread in her hand. 

“ Aye,” he went on heavily," and I’ll take my 
oath it was no aceident, for the place where the 
fire started ” 

With a strangled cry the woman tottered and 
fell crashing across the ta/ble. 

Ghastly, Corrie sprang to her assistance. Stum- 
bhngly he carried her to his chair by the hearth. 
She was not unconscious ; her collapse had been 
mainly physical. Blood was dropping from a 
gash in her wrist. 

“ Dinna heed me,” she murmured ; " I’ll be 
all right in a minute, John.” 

He fetched water and cloths, knelt, washed the 
wound and bandaged it awkwardly yet with some 
tenderness. Slow tears ran down her cheeks. 

" Am I hurting ye, Eachel ? ” he asked. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


216 


She shook her head. 

He spoke again. “I shouldna ha’ told ye sa 
quick about the insurance. Diana keep thinking 
on it.” Then with obviously a great effort — 
“ Te’ve beeh a good sister to me, Eachel. I — 
wish I had been a better brother.” 

His words left her speechless. What had come 
to him ? 

He answered the unspoken question. 

“ Money’s no everything, after aU,” he said 
hoarsely, shamefacedly. “ When I saw ye fait 
I thought ye were killed — thought I had killed 
ye — ^wi’ ma tongue. And — and just for an instant 
I saw myself without ye — alone — ^in this house — 
in this place — in the whole world. I had never 
thought o’ it that way before.” He sighed, and 
got to his feet. “ We’ll say no more about it, 
Eachel, but I’U try to treat ye better from now.” 
He cleared his throat, and averting his gaze said : 
“ I wish I had never set eyes on Symington.” 

Eachel restrained herself then, not for her own 
sake, but for his. For his own safety he must 
not know her secret a moment before the time 
was ripe. Moreover, though his kind words had 
moved her deeply, they had not healed her 
wounded trust in him. 

All she could say was : “ Ye’U aye find me 


216 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


ready and willing to help ye, John ; and it’s never 
too late ” 

“ I donbt it.” He sighed again heavily. 
“ But things mnn take their course now. . . . 
Ye’d better gang to your bed, or ye’ll be useless 
in the morning, and I’ve got to be early at the 
mill. I’ll get my supper myself.” 

She went without a word. 

Corrie sank into his chair. 

“ Al m ighty ! ” he moaned to himself, “ what 
devil started me speculating on the Stock Ex- 
change ? . . . Gone, the savings o’ a life- 
time ! . . . Ajid now the mill that would ha’ 
sold for enough to save me and maybe my savings 
Likewise — ^in ashes — ^just ashes ! It’s ruin, black 
ruin, unless Symington does all he’s promised. . . . 
And the postman’s getting better ! . . . God ! 
I’d write to Kitty this night, if it wasna too late 
— ^but now I’m damned in her eyes for ever and 
ever ! ” 

Small wonder if it were indeed so ! 

In the study at Aberdare Mansions, Colin, 
very pale, sat staring at a sheet of typewritten 
paper, which Eisk had put into his hand, saying — 

“ My sister, as I’ve already explained, found 
this on her return to the flat. Steady, now ! ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


217 


On the sheet was written, in apparent haste, the 
following : — 

“ Deae Hilda, — 

“ A detective has come to arrest me. He says 
it’s the Post Ofiftce. I’m not a bit afraid, only 
sorry to trouble you so. Sam will see me through. 
Good-bye for a little while. 


“ Kitty.” 


CHAPTBE XXI 

K itty was not a little excited at tlie prospect 
of her trip with Hilda, though at first her 
pride had raised a difficulty, and she had begged 
to be allowed to pay her own expenses. 

“ Very well,” Hilda had promptly rejoined, 
if you wish to hurt my brother’s feeUngs, not 
to mention mine, I can’t prevent you. Besides, 

you wfil spoil my holiday ” 

“ But, Hilda, I can’t be always taking ” 

“You can have your revenge when the play 
is making your fortune.” 

“ I wonder if it will. . . . Anyway, I’m glad 
Mr. West is going to be reasonable, aren’t you ? ” 
“ Let’s go out and buy things for our holiday,” 
Hilda had said, rather hurriedly. “ We have no 
time to waste to-day. It’s a nuisance, but I’m 
afraid I shall have to go to the oflice for an hour 
to-night, so that I may leave things in shape.” 
“ And I must finish that typing before I go to 
218 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


219 


bed. Ob, Hilda, sometitnes I can’t help feeling 
that it’s all a dream ! ” 

“ What — the typing ? ” 

“ All the wonderful things that have happened 
to me lately. Why, it’s not a month since that 
horrible time in Dunford. I only wish for one 
thing — ^to hear from Sam, the postman. I can’t 
understand his not writing.” 

“ Possibly, Mr. Hayward, who has gone to 
Scotland, my brother’s note tells me, will have 
news. I am wiring him to take tea with us at 
Newcastle to-morrow afternoon.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ And, naturally, I want to look my best ! So 
come along to the shops at once ! By the way, 
we have dinner early to-night — ^Matilda’s evening 
at the picture house.” 

H: H: 

It was now shortly after eight. Hilda had not 
been long gone to the office, after promising to 
return by ten and wishing, secretly, that she had 
asked Matilda to postpone her outing. But 
her casual suggestion in that direction had been 
scoffed at by Kitty ; and to have carried it further 
would only have made the girl uncomfortable. 

Kitty was too absorbed to feel lonely. Under 
the shaded electric light she was making an effort 


220 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


to finish her typing before Hilda’s return. She 
was in the best of spirits that youth and health 
can supply, and she was looking forward eagerly 
to the morrow — and, perhaps, the morrow’s 
afternoon. 

Nevertheless, she did start when a bell in the 
distance purred suddenly. “ Silly ! ” she called 
herself the next moment. It was just the hour 
for the postman, and probably he had a packet 
that would not go into the letter-box. She went 
at once to the door. 

A thick-set man of middle age, heavily mous- 
tached, but not unpleasantly featm’ed, in dark 
tweeds and bowler hat, said — 

“ You are Miss Kitty Carstairs.” 

Before she could answer, he was standing be- 
side her and the door was closed. 

“ I have something to say to you. Miss Car- 
stairs,” he proceeded in a quiet voice. “ I think 
you ought to sit down to hear it.” 

For some seconds the girl was incapable of 
speech and action. But her mind was working, 
and it perceived that she gained no advantage by 
remaining in the confined space of the little 
passage. In silence she led the way to the sitting- 
room. 

“ Who are you and what do you want with 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


221 


me ? ” she managed to say, taking her stand with 
the table between them. She began to suspect 
that he was a messenger from Symington, but 
there was something “ decent ” about his face 
that reassured her. 

His reply was certainly imexpected. 

“ I am a detective, and I hold a warrant for 
your arrest. I have to warn you that anything 
you may say now may be used against you later.” 

Kitty went white, but it was with anger. 
“ Who,” she demanded at last, “ has dared to do 
such a thing ? Who desires my arrest ? ” 

“ The warrant is issued at the instance of the 

Postmaster-General ” 

“ Ah ! ... I see ! I suppose ” . 

“ Miss Oarstairs. I warn you again ” 

“ Does all this mean that I have got to go with 
you — ^now — to the poUce office ? ” To herself 
she was saying : “ Don’t be a coward ! You’ve 
nothing to be afraid of.” 

“ It is my duty to take you there,” the man 
answered, “ and I hope you will not make it harder 
for me than you can help.” 

His respectful tone stayed the sinking of her 
heart. 

“ Can’t I send a message to a friend ? ” she 
asked. 

p 


222 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ You might leave a short note. I — I think,” 
he said almost nervously, “ I can allow you five 
minutes — ^not more — to write it and put a few 
things together.” He wiped his forehead, though 
the window was open and the room cool. “ Of 
course,” he went on quickly, noticing her look of 
dismay, “ you may not be detained long. Ko 
doubt your friends wiU arrange for bail. But 
now — ^please — 1 must ask you to make haste.” 

“ Wfil you tell me ” she began. 

“ I can answer no more questions.” 

Apparently there was nothing for it but to 
submit. She sat down, scribbled the brief note 
that we have seen, and rose. 

“ I am going to my room.” 

He followed her as far as the outer door, where 
he mounted guard, as it were. 

Within five minutes she rejoined him, dressed 
for out of doors, a small travelling bag in her hand. 

“ Let me get it over,” she said. 

“ You are a brave young lady,” he remarked. 
“ Allow me.” He relieved her of the bag. “ A 
very brave young lady.” 

“ I’ve done nothing to make me afraid.” 

With his fingers on the door handle, he said — ' 

“ Will you give me your word to — to come 
with me quietly ? ” . 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


223 


Her head went up. “ Of course ! ” 

He opened the door and stood aside for her to 
pass out. Now there was no doubt about his 
nervousness ; he was paler than she. 

She went steadily before him down the narrow 
wooden stairway. On the landing he overtook 
her, and they continued their descent on the 
broader stone steps, passing busioess offices closed 
for the night. 

At the entrance a plain-looking motor brougham 
was waiting. 

“ I hope you will remember. Miss Carstairs,” he 
whispered, “ that I used no harshness.” 

“ I win — thank you. Have we far to 
go ? ” 

“ It’s a longish drive.” 

As they crossed the pavement Kitty thought 
it strange that no one stared, then almost laughed 
at the stupidity of the notion. Why should any 
one stare ? Truly the man was behaving very 
nicely. 

He opened the door, followed her into the 
brougham, and closed it with a bang. The 
brougham immediately rolled away. The man 
took the narrow seat opposite, and she heard 
him draw a long breath. 

She tried to baulk the returning fears. Anger 


224 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


at lier uncle assisted her to some extent. He 
must have gone qiute mad ! And then a dreadful 
thought struck and almost stunned her spirits. 
Suppose somethiug had happened to Sam ! Sup- 
pose he were — dead ! . . . 

Time passed ere she recovered her wits and 
courage. Her aimt knew the truth, and Kitty 
could not beUeve that Eachel Corrie, even for her 
brother’s sake, wotdd fall to perjury. And there 
was Mr. Eisk, and Hilda, and Mr. West, and — 
Cohn ! Oh, with such friends, why should she 
be afraid ? Ko doubt she was in for a most dis- 
agreeable ordeal ; but it was bound to end in her 
complete triumph. ... WeU, she was having 
an adventme, and no mistake ! Adventures ! — 
how hghtly she had uttered the word in the past 
to Cohn ! How gently he had treated her foohsh 
talk ! Her mind went back to that night in the 
httle wood at Dxmford, when she had let him 
kiss her. Then his prospects and hers had been 
simply blank. Kow . . . but what had made 
her ahow him to kiss her ? 

She came out of a long reflection. Indeed, the 
destination was evidently a far one ! She had 
not noticed the course taken by the brougham — 
not that she could have recognized any streets 
other than one or two of the main west end 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


225 


thoroughfares. It seemed to her now that they 
must be somewhere in the suburbs. 

“ Are we nearly there ? ” she asked her 
guardian. 

He leared his throat. “ Still a bit to go,” he 
said, and gave a long, vague explanation, which 
she could not foUow, as to poUee districts and 
other matters. “ My work ends,” he concluded, 
“ when I have handed you over to the — the chief 
inspector.” 

She thought of asking him what the chief 
inspector was Uke, and whether she would have 
to go to Scotland, but suddenly she fel|i too tired 
to talk. The reaction had come, and she lay back 
exhaustedly, with the tears not far away. She 
was no longer in a hurry to reach the destination. 

The man drew down the blinds. Soon the speed 
of the brougham was increased ; it seemed to be 
travelling over a different sort of road. There 
were occasional ruts that suggested the country. 

At the end of what seemed a very long, yet 
too short period, the man said — 

“ We are practically there now.” And under 
his breath he added : “ Thank God ! ” 

The brougham lurched round a corner ; ^ pre- 
sently its pace slackened. 

The man drew up the blind on the left, and, 


226 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


the moment the motion ceased, threw open the 
door and jumped out, laying her bag on the 
ground. 

“ Will you get out, please ? ” he said. His voice 
had become husky and fearful. 

She obeyed and looked about her. 

“ But surely this is not ” 

Speech failed as the man, with a whispered 
“Forgive,” sprang into the brougham, which 
immediately started. 

“ Oh, hell ! ” groaned the man, “ to think I’ve 
lived to be driven to this for the sake of twenty 
pounds ! ” 

Kitty found herself standing on the earthen 
foot-walk of a badly-lighted road, in front of an 
iron gate, open, with a shrub -bordered path 
leading to a large, dark house. That was aU she 
had grasped when some one sprang upon her, a 
heavy shawl was thrown over her head and face, 
and — ^her senses failed. 

^ ^ ^ 

She came to herself, lying on a couch in a large 
room with a low ceiling which, like the walls, 
had been whitewashed but lately, for there were 
dampish patches here and there. The floor was 
of stone flags, but its bareness was partly covered 
by Turkey rugs. There were no windows, imless 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


227 


one cared to give tlie name to a couple of oblong 
openings protected by gratings close to tbe roof. 
Two electric bulbs, which with their wires, had 
evidently been hurriedly installed, depended 
from the ceiMng ; an electric heater glowed in a 
niche in one of the walls. Across one of the 
corners a curtain had been hung on a wire, and 
being only partially drawn, permitted a glimpse 
of a small white bed, a white dressing-table and a 
white wash-stand. 

Kear the centre of the room was a round table 
covered with a new cloth and decorated with two 
pairs of silver flower- vases containing carnations. 
A middle-aged woman was engaged in putting the 
flnishing touches to a meal consisting of a cold 
chicken, sliced ham, salad, bread and butter, 
and so forth, also a small bottle of champagne and 
a syphon of lemonade. 

Kitty sat up, but was still too dazed to notice the 
incongruities. She saw only a woman’s back and 
the white walls. 

“ Have they put me in prison ? ” she asked 
faintly. 

The woman turned a red, expressionless face, 
and answered — 

“ Maybe, Miss. But your supper’s ready. 
Kindly ring if you want anything.” 


228 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ I want to see the — the inspector,” said the 
girl, still groping in a mist. 

“ Yes, Miss. To-morrow, maybe. , Your bed’s 
ready when you want it.” 

She went out. 

Kitty pressed her pahns to her temples, and 
with eyes closed remained motionless for several 
minutes. Then, with a sigh, she took courage 
to look about her. 

It was wen that she had a healthy heart, for at 
the realization of her surroundings a weakly one 
must surely have stopped. 


CHAPTEE XXII 


I X the study CoHu rose to his feet, a prey to 
distress and wrath. Kitty’s message flut- 
tered in his hand. 

“ I had better take the midnight train,” he 
said, striving for control. 

“ To what end ? ” Eisk gently asked, while 
Hilda, who looked worn-out, took a step forward 
as if to speak. 

“ To compel that blackguard Corrie ” 

“ Please sit down again, Hayward,” Eisk said, 
enforcing his words with a mild pressure. “ As 
far as we can see it at the moment, Corrie had no 

direct hand in the outrage ” 

“ He has got the Post Office authorities to 
act ” 

“ The post office people had nothing to do 
with it. PuU yourself|together, man ! I’m going 
to give you a shock. . . . You tell him, Hilda.” 

“ Mr. Hayward,” she said, pityingly, “ the 
person who took Kitty away was merely mas- 
229 


230 


KITTY CAESTAIRS 


querading as a detective. He had nothitig to do 
with the police or the Post OflBce. My brother 
learned that much within a few minutes after 
my giving him the alarm. . . . But don’t let 
this crush you. We want your help, you know.” 
Hilda had a way of striking the right note. 

Colin got a grip on himself. “ Symiugton, of 
course,” he said, steadying his voice. 

“ Oh, of course ! ” she assented bitterly. “ And 
I went out and left her alone ! ” 

“ At the same time,” said Risk, “ Symiagton 
did not move from his hotel after eight o’clock last 
night, and he went Korth by the mail train at 
five this morning. That does not prove his inno- 
cence ; on the other hand, it does not help to 
prove the other thmg.” 

“ You have set the police to work ? ” said Colin 
sharply. At that moment he hated Risk. Why 
on earth had not the man held up Symington the 
moment he doubted the latter’s right to the 
Zeniths ? Why had he iusisted on making a 
“ game ” of it all ? . . . But the feeling passed. 
He knew too well that Risk had been as sincerely 
anxious to shield Kitty from anything sordid and 
ugly as he had been eager to serve her material 
interests. 

“ Ko,” said Risk mildly. “ I have no super- 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


231 


cilious feelings about the methods of our police, 
but for Miss Carstairs’ own sake we want publicity 
less than ever now. I have eight men at work, 
who will do all that Scotland Yard could do — 
and I am not resting much myself.” 

Cohn thought for a moment. “ Knowing what 
we do,” he said, “ we don’t need to look far for a 
motive on Symington’s part. The Zeniths 
alone ” 

“ Kitty will never give in,” cried Hilda. “ He’U 
never force her to marry him.” 

“ Good God ! ” groaned Cohn, “ to think of 
her being in that scoimdrel’s power ! ” 

Eisk laid a hand on his shoulder. “ Blame 
me, if you must, Hayward,” he said quietly, 
“ but don’t give way to despair.” After a shght 
pause he added : “ Give me four days.” 

“You have a clue?” 

“ Hot quite — only the means, I hope, of ob- 
taining one. But don’t ask me questions. My 
plan may be unnecessary after aU. We may 
perhaps find the way without it.” 

“ But, Mr. Eisk, can’t you put yqur plan into 
operation at once ? ” 

“ It requires some developing. . . . For 
Heaven’s sake, Hayward,” exclaimed Eisk, with 
rmwonted warmth, “ try to beheve that I’d give 


232 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


all I have if I could get the poor girl out of that 
cad’s clutches without an hour’s delay ! ” 

“ You wiU trust my brother, won’t you ? ” 
said Hilda softly, and next moment Cohn was 
silently wringing Eisk’s hand. Somehow, he 
could not doubt this man. 

“ And what can I do ? ” he asked presently. 

“ Though it may seem out of place, I 
want you now to teU me the results of your 
journey. Also let me have the films you 
exposed. By the way,” Eisk went on, “ West 
has got a week’s leave, and is going to spend 
a few days in the neighbourhood of Dunford. 
He’s unknown there, and another flying visit 
from you might seem more than odd to some 
people — ^besides, I want you here. Only, I’d hke 
you to see West before he starts by the midnight 
train — ^you may be able to give him some hints 
about the district, and so on. Therefore, we’ll 
get on with our talk, and you can be over at 
Euston soon after 11.30. He expects you. He 
would have come here, but he had an appoint- 
ment with the manager of the Planet Theatre ” 

“ You see,” put in Hilda, “ we are so sure of 
having Kitty with us again, almost immediately, 
that the play is going forward as if nothing had 
happened.” ' 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


233 


It is to be feared that Colin did not find much 
comfort in the remark, but at least it reminded 
bim once more that a cool head was then of greater 
value to Kitty’s cause than aU the warm hearts 
in the world. 

Though he could not have stated why, he was 
feeling a little less cheerless when he left Aberdare 
Mansions for the meeting with West. He was 
noting in his mind certain suggestions which he 
thought might be of use to his friend, and absent- 
mindedly looking out for a taxi-cab, when one 
appeared and came to the pavement in response 
to his signal. 

“ Euston,” he said and got in. 

But as he was about to draw to the door, a 
hand was laid on it and a voice requested the 
driver to “Hold on.” 

“ Excuse me,” continued the voice, which 
belonged to a shabby, genteel, sharp-featured 
young man, “ but I think you are Mr. Cohn Hay- 
ward.” An uncleanly hand presented an enve- 
lope. 

“ What’s this ? ” muttered Cohn, then seized 
it with a start. It was the covering of a note he 
had sent Kitty a week ago. “ Where did you get 
this ? ” he demanded. 

“ Through a barred window,” was the answer. 


234 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ The lady told me what you were like, and 
where I’d be likely to find you — ^this isn’t the first 
place I’ve tried — and she gave me a sovereign, 
and she said you would be sure to give me another, 
sir.” An unclean palm slid forward hopefully. 

“ But look here,” cried Colin, his heart thump- 
ing, “ there’s no message written here ! Have 
you lost 

“ The lady said she had nothing to write with, 
but she said you would surely understand and 
come quick.” 

Colin drew a long breath. “ Where is — ^the 
barred window ? ” 

“ Gimme the sovereign, please, and I’ll show 
you. It’s not far.” 

“ I’ll give you five sovereigns when you’ve 
shown me ! ” said Colin. “ Tell the man where 
to go and get inside.” 

He had not forgotten about West, and Eisk 
was still in his mind, but they suddenly ceased 
to matter. 

“ How far ? ” he inquired, as the cab started. 

“ About ten minutes from here.” 

“ What sort of place is it ? ” 

“ Eespectable — oh, quite respectable, but not 
the sort of place a gentleman like you would 
fancy to five in, sir. First time I was ever there. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


235 


too. Just taking a stroll, wondering where I 
was going to get my next meal, when I heard a 
female cry from an area, and looking down I saw 
a hand moving at a window, a few inches open, 
behind bars ” 

“ That’U do. Look here, I may require your 
help.” 

*“ Welcome, sir — when I’ve touched that fiver.” 

“ Take it now.” A bank-note rustled. 

“ You’re a real gentleman ! Thank ’ee, sir ! ” 

Before long the cab left familiar thoroughfares, 
and began a journey through a succession of more 
or less mean streets. In reply to Colin’s questions 
his companion named some of them, without, 
however, making Cohn much the wiser. But what 
mattered it whither he was going so long as it was 
to Kitty ? His heart was wild with anticipation ; 
his hand trembled on the crushed envelope that 
she had so lately touched. He had no fear of 
not being able to rescue her. If necessary he 
would request pohce assistance, but he did not 
expect to have to go that length. People who 
abducted girls, or took temporary charge of them, 
were not the sort to wait for the pohce. Colin, 
too, had a fairly heavy stick which Sharp had 
put iuto his I hand as he left the flat. Certainly 
he was not afraid. He looked at his watch. 


236 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Wliy, he might not only rescue Kitty, hut manage 
to catch West at Euston also ! As for Symington 
and Corrie. . . . The shabby-genteel young man 
began to talk earnestly. 

The cab stopped at a corner. The guide got 
out and walked slowly down a narrow pavement, 
in front of houses that still wore an air of re- 
spectability, dingy indeed, and decaying, but not 
to be wholly suppressed. The long street was 
indifferently lighted and void of traflffe. 

Cohn paid the driver and followed. By 
arrangement he did not overtake his guide, 
but watched him for a signal. 

They were half-way down the street when the 
leader threw out his left arm. Cohn marked 
the position ; and on reaching it found a gateless 
space in the raffing leading to a steep and narrow 
flight of steps. He paused for a moment, noted 
the second low window on his right, which showed 
a very faint ghmmer behind its bars and bhnd, 
looked again to make sure that his guide had 
halted within call, as agreed, and with a wave 
of his hand, and grasping his stick, began cau- 
tiously to descend into the darkness. A moment 
later he was tapping discreetly on the window, 
and then 


He was seized from behind, thrown backwards 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


237 


and downwards, into, as it seemed, an atmosphere 
of chloroform. The last distinct sormds he heard 
were the pants of a motor and a strange voice 
saying, “ Hrtrry up, there’s the car.” 

H: * ❖ Hi 4: 

At five minutes before midnight Anthony :.West 
rushed from the train to a telephone box and rang 
up Eisk. 

“ Colin hasn’t turned up,” he said, without 
preamble. 

For the first time Miss Eisk heard her brother 
swear. ' But he did it without losing his ealnmess. 

“ Then you must go on, Anthony, and carry out 
the programme as well as you can,” he replied. 
“ You must use your own discretion a little more ; 
that’s all. Don’t lose your train. Accidents 
will happen. Good luck to you.” 

He hung up the receiver, and turned to his 
sister, his face expressing grave concern. 

“ Hayward has not arrived at Euston. Of 
course, he may have met with an accident — ^but 
now I could almost bet that Symington did not 
really go Korth this morning — or rather, he turned 
back before he had gone far. I ought to have 
given the beggar credit for more cunning.” 

Hilda considered before she asked : “ But why 

Q 


238 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


in the world should Symington want to harm 
him ? ” 

“ There may be several reasons. Perhaps I 
ought to tell you where Hayward disappeared 
that night you and Miss Carstairs were diniug 
here. He went to Symiugton’s hotel, and gave 
the rascal a sound thrashing ” 

“ Oh, splendid ! ” 

“ Yes, but indiscreet.” He sighed. “ I don’t 
like it. Cad as he is, I could almost trust Sym- 
ington not to maltreat the girl, but. . . .” He 
returned to the telephone and rang up a police 
station on the route that a cab would naturally 
take to Euston. 

“ But he would never dare,” began Hilda, and 
stopped short, rememberiug Symington’s face as 
she had seen it that night in the train. Cruel — 
that was the word — the face of a man who would 
inflict torture to gain his end. 

Eisk had hit on the truth, Symington had not 
gone far Korth that morning. As a matter of 
fact he had left the train at Eugby, entered a 
powerful motor-car, and came South again — not 
to the Eongsway Grand Hotel, but to a. rather 
dilapidated mansion situated at 336 Lester Eoad, 
Eichmond. 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


239 


At Dunford on the following evening, John 
Corrie found among the letters from the South 
one for himself. For the second time he gazed 
at a single pencilled word — “ Arrested ” — and 
shuddered ’twist terror and hope. The man’s 
nerves seemed to be in rags, for he paled, started 
violently, and dropped the letter when the door 
of the post office opened. 

But it was only a tourist who entered. Corrie’s 
whole being boimded up in relief — only to drop 
sickeningly at the stranger’s first words — 

“ I wish to see Miss Kitty Oarstairs.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


^i^HE woman with the red, expressionless face 
X put her head into Kitty’s prison and said — 
“ I’ve to teU ye that he’ll be coming to see you 
ia five ntmutes from now.” Without waiting for 
a response she closed the door and shot the bolt. 

Kitty was seated on the couch with a book iu 
her hand. She had actually managed to read a 
little, though it is highly probable that she could 
not have told very clearly what the pages had 
been about. Yet the fact that she had been able 
to fix her attention on a mere story for the space 
of a couple of hours proved that she had regained 
a fair command over her wits, and recovered at 
least something of her courage. At all events, 
of the panic of twenty-four hours ago little trace 
remained. She was pale, but it was the pallor 
of anxiety, not terror ; and now, at the woman’s 
announcement, the apprehension in her fine eyes 
was counterbalanced by a determined firming of 
her pretty, sensitive mouth, 

240 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


241 


“ He can do nothing, after all,” she assured 
herself, “ and it won’t be very long till they find 
out where I am. I must show him I’m not afraid 
of him.” 

It was past midnight, but she felt no weariness, 
for she had slept through the afternoon. She 
was, in fact, feehng as well as ever she had felt. 
Just after the first horrid realization of her situa- 
tion she had made up her mind to starve rather 
than accept of his hospitality ; but soon she had 
perceived the absurdity of such a course. 

“ For goodness’ sake, be as sensible as you 
can,” she commanded herself. “ You’ve got to 
keep fit and healthy, for you don’t know what you 
may have to do with your strength. And the 
food is of the best, perfectly cooked and beauti- 
fully served. So don’t try to pose as a persecuted 
heroine on the stage. You’ve been fearfully 
lucky, and this is only going to be a nasty little 
episode, which you’ll laugh at before long ! ” 

AU the same, she had a breakdown or two in 
spite of her brave words, and the time had passed 
very, very slowly. How as she heard his step at 
the door, she moved herself to play a part. 

Symington entered, closing the door behind him. 
He was in evening dress and cut a handsome figure 
in his way. His countenance was somewhat 


242 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


flushed ; his eyes glistened rather unpleasantly. 
For various reasons he' had delayed visiting his 
prisoner until now. 

“I am sorry I could not come to see you sooner, 
Kitty,” he said, halting by the flower-decorated 
table, and resting his hand on the back of a chair. 
“ This room,” he went on, “ is not what I would 
have chosen for your reception, but it was the 
best I could do in the time. I have a fine house 
upstairs being prepared for — ^us. Still, I hope 
you have been fairly comfortable. You have 
only to ask for anything you want.” He paused, 
watching her. 

Her eyes had never left the book ; she appeared 
oblivious of his presence. 

“ Kitty,” he said, “ will you kihdly teU me if 
there is anything I can do.” 

“ You can- go away,” she answered quietly, 
without moving. 

He had prepared himself for an imkind recep- 
tion. “ There is something you must hear before 
I go,” he said. “ And, Kitty, don’t trouble to 
try to make me lose my temper, because I’m 
not going to oblige you in that way. In any other 
way, you have only to ask.” 

“ Then if you must talk, please leave my name 
out.” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


243 


After a slight pause he said : “ Would you mind 
putting down your book for a few minutes ? ” 

She lowered it, her finger at the place, and faced 
him. 

“ WeU ? ” 

“ Have you no question to ask me ? ” 

“ Kone.” 

“ You are great ! ” he exclaimed. “ But I 
have a question to ask.” 

She lifted her hand to her mouth and gave a 
little yawn. His colour deepened, but he spoke 
calmly enough. 

“ How soon will you marry me, Kitty ? ” 

There was cruelty in her voice. “ Mr. Sym- 
ington, how far do you intend to go with this 
idiotic business ? ” She threw a significant glance 
around the room. “ It must have cost you a good 
deal of money so far — and all for nothing ! ” 

He winced, but kept himself in hand. 

“ How soon will you marry me ? ” 

“ You know I wUl never marry you.” She 
made to resume her book. 

“ I know that you shall ! ” He moved quickly 
and stood over her. “ Don’t you see that you are 
in my power ? ” 

“ I’m under lock and key, if that’s what you 
mean.” 


244 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ Don’t force me to tell you what I mean. I’d 
far rather have your promise without that. . . . 
Kitty, listen ! You can’t deny that you know 
I’m desperately fond of you.” His words came 
swiftly now. “ And I can’t deny that I’m aware 
you don’t even hke me. But just as you could 
make what you please of me, I believe in time, I 

could ” 

“ Stop ! ” 

“You must hear me ! I’m a rich man, though 
hardly anybody knows it. I can offer you a 
splendid life — give you things you’ve never 
dreamed of, take you abroad, make you a home 
wherever you desire. . . . Kitty, I confess I’ve 
done lots to be ashamed of in my time, but I swear 
I’ll make you a good husband—. — ” 

“ Oh, do stop ! ” she said, her cahn broken. 
“ How can you — how dare you — talk so after 
all you have done — the abominable things you 
have done to me ? . . . Eich ? What should I 
care if you had all the money in the world ? Why, 
I shouldn’t care enough to ask how you had got 
it ” 

His hand fell on her shoulder. “ Be careful,” 
he said in tense tones. “ For as surely as I am 
touching you now you are going to marry 
me ! ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


245 


She shook off his hand. “ If you touch me 
again ” She stopped short. 

“ Well ? ” It was almost a sneer. Kext 
moment he said : “ Don’t be afraid, Kitty. I’m 
not that sort. You — ^you’re sacred. . . . But 
you do not leave this place until we go out of it 
together to be married. Don’t think you can 
escape, and don’t imagine it will be so very long 
till you give in. Your friends may find their 
way here some day, but they won’t be in time. 
Afterwards — what will your friends matter ? 
You’U be my wife, and no one shall dare come 
between us ! ” 

“ You are mad ! ” she exclaimed, clinging to her 
courage. “ For your own sake give up this 
crazy notion. Otherwise you’ll be dreadfully 
prmished ! ” 

With a short laugh he moved away a few paces, 
then faced her agaiu. 

“ You deliberately won’t understand my love 
for you, Kitty, and you don’t understand my 
power — as yet. For your own sake, and an- 
other’s, I beg you once more to give in without 
" forcing me to use ” 

“ Oh, what is the good of all this talk ? You 
can make things uncomfortable for me for a few 
days, perhaps, but you can never compel me to 


246 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


do the most hateful thing I can imagine — ^in other 
■words, marry yon. And that is my last word, 
jVIr. Symington.” She took up her book and 
opened it, but her fingers trembled on the page. 

With difficulty he restrained his passion. 

“ Very well,” he said a little thickly. “ I’m 
sorry, but you force me on the course I would 
have avoided if possible.” Softly he cleared his 
throat. “ Kow I’ll explain. A little while ago I 
received a telephone message to the effect that 
. . . ah ! ” he exclaimed. An electric bell had 
sounded in the distance. “ Let us wait.” He 
smiled as he took out his cigarette case, but the 
fingers that presently held the match were not 
much steadier than hers. “ Listen, listen ! ” he 
muttered. 

In spite of herself Kitty listened. At first 
her ears could detect nothing ; then they heard 
the closing of a distant, heavy door. A brief 
period of silence was followed by the sound, 
faint to begin ■with, of slow, heavy footfalls. 
Spon she realized they were descending a stone 
stair. Kearer they came, and at last seemed to 
reach the level. Kearer still — they were coming 
along the passage outside her door. They rang 
dully and erratically on the stone fiags. Kitty 
thought of two men bearing a weighty burden. 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


247 


As they passed the door she heard voices, gruff 
and impatient. 

Suddenly Symington gave an odd, triumphant 
laugh, saying — 

“ My second prisoner has arrived ! ” 

Involuntarily the girl lifted her eyes. 

“ For the last time, Kitty, -will you give me 
your word that you will marry me as soon as I 
can get ” 

She sprang to her feet. “ You miserable 
fool,” she cried, “ I’d rather be dead ! ” 

He grinned. “ The more you hurt me, the 
more I love you ! It’s no use fighting me, Kitty. 
I’m going to win,” he declared, “ for you’re bound 
to give in. Why ? Because my second prisoner 
shall not get so much as a crust until you give 
me your word ! Eemember, you forced me to 
it.” He swung roimd to the door. 

“ You coward;” she gasped, “ who is your 
second prisoner ? ” 

Without answering he went out. It was as 
though her wall of defence had suddenly crumbled 
into ruins. 


CHAPTEE XXIV 


X the third evening following that of Kitty’s 



disappearance, Eisk was reading a letter 
which the last post had just brought him. The 
letter was from Anthony West, and the important 
part of it ran as follows : — 

“ I have now completed the arrangements 
according to your instructions. The town is only 
twenty miles from Dunford, and the road between 
is excellent. Besides, the moon wiU oblige on the 
night appointed. I am no judge of cars, but 
think I have engaged the sort you require. . . . 
I saw the postman yesterday. He is fairly on the 
mend now, but worrying at not hearing from 
Miss Kitty. Herewith three snapshots of him, 
taken while sittmg on the hospital veranda. 
By the way, I gathered that he would not seek 
to lift a finger against Oorrie without Kitty’s 
permission. . . . Oorrie is a hard nut. He takes 


248 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


24:9 


me for a friend of Kitty’s late father, and I have 
allowed him to think that my first inquiry was 
prompted more by a belated sense of duty than 
by any real interest in the girl. I dropped into 
the post-ofEice about closing time last night, and 
found him less disinclined to talk. He said 
nothing directly against his niece, merely re- 
marking that in the face of his advice she had 
gone to London, where she had friends, and that 
while she had not yet written, he hoped he might 
be able to hand me her address before long. To 
extract truth from such a person wiU take a bit 
of doing. The sister, I learn from the gossips, 
has been ill, though not seriously so, for the last 
few days. I should add that Corrie goes about 
saying that the burning of his null was a piece 
of foul play. A man told me to-day that it was 
not insured. ... Ho word of Symington. He 
has not been seen in Drmford for more than a 
week. As far as I can gather, no one would regret 
his permanent absence. ... I see Zeniths have 
jumped to £8. Do you still say they are worth 
£12 ? I almost wish I had taken your advice, and 
pawned my shirt ! . . . Well, I am looking 
forward to our meeting here on Thursday with 
pleasure, not to say curiosity. What’s the game, 
I wonder ? But, perhaps, you will have found 


250 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


Kitty and Colin before then — God make it 

so. . . 

Eisk laid the letter on the table, placed the 
snapshots in an envelope, directed it, and rang 
for his man. 

“ Sharp, take a taxi and deliver this to Mr. 
Boon. Say I’m sorry it comes a little late, but 
that he must get his men to work harder. Tell 
him to spare neither men nor money. There 
must be no failure to-night. I am going out 
presently. If I’m late, don’t wait up. Pack my 
bag for one night ; include both my revolvers. 
Call me at eight ; breakfast at nine ; and a taxi 
for nine-thirty.” 

An hour later Eisk was at the flat in Long Acre. 

“ This won’t do, j Hilda,” he said kindly. 
“ You’re not going to help matters by breaking 
down. Have you been out to-day ? ” 

“ Ko. I feel now that I daren’t leave the flat 
in case she should come back — ^perhaps with that 
beast after her — ^poor little soul. Oh, John, I 
sometimes think it was aU my fault. I should 
not have left her alone that night ” 

“ Nonsense ! If it comes to that, I am to 
blame, for I might have foreseen. . . . But you’ll 
soon have her with you again, Hilda ! ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 251 

“ Have you news ? ” she cried eagerly. 

He gave her West’s letter, saying : “ You can 
look at it afterwards. Ho ; I can’t say I have 
news, but in a few hours I shall be ready to act. 
That wretched Corrie shall tell me where his niece 
and Hayward are.” 

“ Are you sure ? ” . AU at once she put her 
hands on his shoulders, and looked searchingly 
into his face. “ Oh, John,” she whispered, “ you 
can’t hide it — ^you’re afraid of something ! ” 

“ Yes,” he said at last with sudden weariness, 
“ I’m afraid.” Hext moment he drew himself 
up. “ But that’s because, like you, I’m tired 
out. A few hours’ sleep will make all the differ- 
ence to both of us. Won’t you come back with 
me and stay the night ? I hate leaving you here.” 

She shook her head. “ I imagine if she came 
in the middle of the night ” 

“ Try not to imagine things, my dear. And 
I’U just spend the night here. This couch wiU do. 
Ask your maid to knock me up at seven. And 
go straight off to bed yourself. How’s that ? ” 

“ Oh, you good brother ! ” she cried softly. 
“ I was wondering how I was going to get through 
another night alone ! ” 

Soon she retired, a little more hopeful, and ere 
long was in a sleep of sheer exhaustion. 


262 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


But for Eisk, wearied as he was, there was 
scarcely any rest. He was desperately anxious. 
He could not conceive of Symington daring actu- 
ally to injure the girl ; hut what if the man struck 
at her through his other victim ? Eisk groaned 
at the thought. He went to the window, and 
threw it wide to the still, mild night. Ah, it was 
no longer a game he was engaged in, but a business 
most terribly serious, vital to the future peace of 
his soul. For he loved — no need to deny it to the 
stars^ — ^he loved Kitty Carstairs . . . and a lover’s 
insight had mformed him that, sooner or later, 
her heart would turn to Cohn Hayward, who had 
put faith and trust in him, who regarded him as 
benefactor, aye, and true friend. So he had his 
honour as weU as his love to serve in smashing the 
enemy. Yet, had Colin not come to London, what 
might not have happened ? . . . 

At last he tore himself from the night and his 
sorry dreams, and lay down, not to sleep, but 
grimly to rehearse, m minutest detail, ah that 
he had planned for the morrow. And every now 
and then he was interrupted by a Dread. 

He ^ 

Another was rehearsing a plan that still, mild 
night. In a small room, furnished with odds and 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


253 


ends, sat Symington. The atmosphere was un- 
pleasant with cigar reek and whisky fumes. Since 
his tremendous bout of dissipation the man had 
somehow failed to regain the mastery in respect 
of alcohol. Yet he was far from being intoxicated. 
Apart from the plan itself two things were es- 
pecially clear to his intelligence. First, Zeniths 
had boomed to SJ ; second, he had less than 
£20 on hand. It would be necessary to convert 
another certificate into cash at the earliest moment 
possible. He was tempted to convert them all 
into cash at the present magnificent price ; only 
greed to obtain yet more restrained him. 

“ Kothing for it,” he thought, “ but to travel 
to-morrow night, after. . . Unless — why, the 
thmg might be done to-night ! Ko, no ! Steady ! 
Don’t be a fool and spoil everything by rushing 
it ! If her mind is not sufficiently prepared, 

and if he doesn’t look sufficiently ” Breaking 

off, he rang the bell at the side of the fireplace. 

The woman with the red, expressionless face 
answered the summons. 

“ How is the lady now ? ” he asked curtly. 

“ Sleeping at last, but she’s restless. I doubt 
she won’t sleep long.” Her pale eyes avoided 
his. “Though I don’t know what you may be 
after, Mr. Granton,” the hard mouth said slowly, 

R 


254 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


“ I take the liberty of ■warnhig you not to carry 
it too far ” 

“ Mind your own business, and clear out. Send 
your man to me.” 

“ Ko offence intended, but I doubt she hasn’t 
eaten a bite to-day,” said the woman, and went 
out. Her humanity was not equal to the grand 
wages she was getting. 

Symington sighed, took a drink and muttered : 
“ Poor Kitty ! Perhaps we may get it over 
to-night, after aU.” 

A huge lout of a man, with a red beard and a 
bald head, shuffled in. 

“ Well, how is he now ? ” 

“ Not much change. Looking peaked a bit. 
But he made a joke when he said good night. 
Expect he’ll feel a goodish bit worse by to- 
morrow.” 

Symington considered. “ When you go down- 
stairs,” he said at last, “ you will take away the 
water and give him none to-morrow.” 

“What? Ko water, Mr. Granton ? ” 

“ That’s what I said.” 

“ Oh, but surely that’s a bit ” 

“ Are you gomg to obey or not ? ” 

The man lifted his shoulders. “ All right, Mr. 
Granton, it’s no affair of mine. Only ” 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


255 


“ Get out ! ” 

The man shuffled away. He had an ugly past 
known to his employer. 

Symiugton cursed under his breath. “ Ko good 
for to-night. Poor Kitty — ^it’s a pity, but I can’t 
help it. Well, to-morrow night ought to settle it, 
and if not, I can wait. ... But I might have 
gone North to-night, lifted the stuff, and got 
back here under twenty-four hours. Why the 
blazes didn’t I think of that ? ” His eyes roved 
as if in search of an answer, and lighted on the 
decanter. He glowered at it, and a flush, almost 
purple, overran his countenance. “ Damn you,” 
he suddenly shouted, “ it was you that kept me ! ” 
And, snatching it from the table, he hurled it 
across the room so that it burst into fragments 
against the wall. There was a breathless pause 
till he asked in a frightened whisper, “ What the 
devil made me do that . . . made me do that ? ” 
He went to bed without finishing the drink in the 
tumbler. 


CHAPTEE XXV 


K itty was undoubtedly nearing tbe limit of 
human endurance. Threats and offers of 
bribes had alike failed to move the red-faced 
woman ; not one out of a hundred questions had 
she answered save by the formula, “ I’m sure I 
couldn’t say, Miss,” or, “ You’ll have to ask him- 
self about that.” 

It was the fourth night of her incarceration, 
the third since Symington’s visit. At first she 
had demanded his presence ; later she had im- 
plored. The reply was always the same : “ May- 
be soon ; but you must have patience. Miss.” 
Less than an hour ago she had heard it, and now 
the quaint little clock on the wall, which she had 
sometimes loved for its “ company,” and some- 
times wanted to smash for its heartlessness, tinkled 
nine. Was another day going to pass without 
relief, another night of awful uncertainty ap- 
proaching ? She had given up trying to persuade 
256 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


257 


herself that her captor was not vile enough to 
carry out his menace against Cohn — for Cohn, 
she could not doubt, was the second prisoner. 
Symington, asserted Despair, was surely vile 
enough for the dirtiest work, since he could so 
torture the mind of a helpless girl. 

And yet Kitty Carstau’s was not at the very 
end of her wits. One thing she had in her power 
to do. She could starve herself ! Yesterday she 
had scarcely touched food ; to-day she had not 
broken her fast. The tempting meals had gone 
out of the room as they had been brought in. 
There on the table, with its mocking carnations, 
was a silver tray bearing sundry dehcacies, ex- 
quisitely served, which the woman had left on 
her last visit for the night. It taxed the girl’s 
powers of resistance, but her spirit conquered 
her flesh. 

“ God, hear me,” she whispered ; “ let me not 
eat till I am convinced that Colin has had food.” 
She was feeling weak and somewhat faint, but the 
sickly headache had abated, and her mind was 
very clear. 

“ I wiU try once more,” she told herself. “ I 
will pretend to be iU, and that may bring him. 
Then I will show him I am determined to starve. 
I shouldn’t be much use to him dead ! ” 


268 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


Her finger was on the bell when she heard a 
sound in the passage. The bolt was drawn back, 
and Symington’s voice said : “ Get to your bed. 
I don’t want to see you again to-night.” A rough 
voice answered : “ Eight you are, sir. Good 
night.” 

Then Symington entered. He had been keep- 
ing himself firmly in hand all day ; he had an 
exhausted look, and was rather pale. 

Without preface he exclaimed in hurt tones : 
“ Kitty, what’s wrong with the food ? ” 

“ Is your other prisoner getting the same ? ” 
she asked quietly, approaching the table. 

His laugh was lost in a crash. 

Kitty had lifted the tray and flung it at his 
feet. 

“ There’s your rubbish ! ” she panted, catching 
hold of a chair-back. “ You can’t beat me ! ” 

“ By God ! ” he exclaimed furious, then re- 
strained himself. “ You can’t keep it up, Kitty, 
my dear. One day of real hunger is nothing to 
brag about. Wait tfll you see my other prisoner. 
I’m gomg to take you there now. He has had 
three days of it — and no water since yesterday. 
He’ll advise you not to be foolish.” 

“ You beast ! ” 

He winced, but merely said, “ Come ! ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


259 


She did not hesitate even when he took hold of 
her arm. 

“ You are a great fool,” she said. “ Can’t you 
understand that any decent man would advise 
me to commit suicide rather than marry you ? ” 

“ Be silent ! ” His fingers crushed her flesh. 

He led her along a passage lit by electricity. 
A couple of windows, she noticed, were boarded 
over with metal-lined wood. They passed a 
couple of doors similarly strengthened and with 
stout bolts apparently new. They turned a 
corner and stopped. The topmost third of the 
door in front of them had been cut away, and the 
opening fitted with slim upright steel bars. 

“ Look in,” said Symington. 

Kitty saw a chamber which might have served 
as a storeroom in the past. The shelving had 
been removed ; the walls were torn and filthy. 
A table, a chair, and an ancient sofa constituted 
the furnishings. A single light hung from the 
ceding. 

On the sofa lay a young man, the state of 
whose raiment suggested a very long journey 
without a dressing-case. His face was grey and 
pinched ; his hands made vague, nervous move- 
ments. 

“ Oh, Colin r ” she cried. 


260 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


His eyes opened, peeriagly ; he struggled into a ; 
sitting posture, and pressed a hand to his brow, 

“ Why, it’s Kitty ! ” he said, with a laugh that i 

died abruptly. “ I’d forgotten,” he muttered. j 

A short pause, then — “ So we’re both prisoners. | 

But he won’t starve you, Kitty, WeU, I hope ■ 

our jailer is enjoying himself while it lasts. Oh, ' 

you’re there, Symington ! Kitty, has he told you j 

about the thrashing I gave him the other i 

night ? ” j 

Symington turned away with a badly sup- I 

pressed snarl. I 

“ Oh, did you, Colin ? Thank you, thank you ! | 

But, Cohn, what am I to do ? He’s starving | 

you, and says he’ll give you nothing till I promise | 

to marry him.” | 

“ Eeally ! What a gentleman he is ! Of course | 
you’U marry him ! ” | 

“ Come ! ” said Symington roughly. | 

Kitty held on to the bars. “ Colin, I’m starving ^ 

myself ” i 

“ No, no ! Eor God’s sake^ Kitty ” Cohn 

rose, but staggered. “ I’h puh through. And 
don’t you be afraid. It’s only for a httle longer,” ■ 
he said, and got to the door, “ Let me touch your 
hand, Kitty, and I’U puh through.” 

“ Let go ! ” Symington said savagely, “ or ” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


261 


“ Forgive me, I’ve kissed your hand, Kitty 
dear,” said Colin in a weak, husky voice. 

Beside himself, Symington tore her from the 
door inside which Cohn had fallen. As he left 
her in her own room he said — 

“ You’U feel and think differently to-morrow. 
I shan’t see you till then. Going now to Dimford. 
But before I leave I’ll supply our friend with 
plenty of water — well salted.” 


CHAPTEE XXVI 



^HE passage of a motor-car througli Drmford 


in the night-time was too common a hap- 
pening to disturb sleepers or excite the curiosity 
of a wakeful person. To-night John Corrie was 
wakeful, as he so often was till long after mid- 
night, and it is probable that he was not aware of 
the big car’s approach till it stopped at his own 
door. Being a dealer in motor-spirit, he at once 
perceived a reason for the stoppage. More than 
once in the last few years he had been called 
in similar wise to the receipt of custom, though 
never quite so late as this. On the last occasion 
he had, without opening the door, curtly refused 
supplies. Nowadays, however, he could not afford 
to turn money away at any hour of the twenty- 
four. So in shirt, trousers, and slippers he was 
into the shop almost as soon as the expected 
knock fell. Stm, it was better to make certain 
before opening. 

“ What do ye want ? ” he called, hand on key. 


262 


KITTY CAESTAIRS 


263 


“ Petrol.” 

He opened . . . and next moment his arms 
were behind him while steel clicked on his wrists. 

“A single sound by way of alarm, John Oorrie,” 
said a quiet, cold voice, “ and you’re a ruined 
man. We are not after yom.’ money, but we’re 
going to have the whole precious truth out of 
you.” 

The speaker, as the haU-fainting Corrie per- 
ceived in the light of a portable lamp, which 
some one had placed on the counter, was accom- 
panied by three men, two of them in the garb of 
mechanics. The third he recognized as the person 
recently inquiring about Kitty. 

“ What do ye want wi’ me ? ” he whimpered. 

“ Where is your sister ? ” asked Risk. 

“ In her bed. She’s hi.” 

“ Then we shah, do nothing to disturb her, 
and you had better follow our example. West, 
find a chair, and put him on it — over at the door.” 
He indicated the exit to the dwelling-house. 

Kear the opposite end of the shop, which was 
fairly spacious, the mechanics were already busy. 
On rubber-shod feet they made scarce a sound. 
Within the space of a few minutes they had rigged 
up a framework, about nine feet square, and 
stretched a white screen upon it. Risk impacked 


264 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


the contents of a box of polished wood, while 
West kept guard on the prisoner. 

At last, with a show of courage, Corrie de- 
manded : “ What daft-like performance is this ? 
A magic lantern ” 

Eisk came quickly behiud him. “ We’re goiug 
to show you a few pictures, Corrie,” he said 
pleasantly, “ and afterwards we shall be glad to 
hear how they strike you. Meantime I’m going 
to gag you — ^keep still, it won’t hurt.” 

At the end of ten minutes one of the men mur- 
mured, “ All ready, sir,” to which Eisk replied, 
“ Wait till I give the word,” and stationed him- 
self where he could watch every movement on 
Corrie’s part. The lamp was put out, but through 
the.bhnded windows a little moonlight filtered, 
giving a ghostly touch to the man in the chair. 

“ Number one,” said Eisk softly. 

The screen was illuminated. Upon it appeared 
a face, that of the late Hugh Carstairs. A glimpse 
and it was gone. Corrie gave a jerk. 

“ Two,” muttered Eisk, and Kitty Carstairs 
smiled and disappeared. 

“ Three.” A man’s visage with an imcertain 
grin — Symington. 

Then, for an instant, the screen held a certificate 
for 600 shares in the Zeixith Gold Mines. Corrie 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


266 


sat as if frozen, but at the next he quivered, for 
he beheld a portion of a letter which he knew was 
in his safe. 

“Six.” Behold! Sam, the postman, holding 
a copy of the Western WeeTcly in one hand and 
staring at a letter in the other. Again Corrie gave 
a jerk. 

“ Seven.” A five-poimd note of the National 
Bank of Scotland. 

“ Eight.” A rear view of Corrie’s cottage, a 
ladder agaiust the ivy, and a man of Corrie’s 
build reaching into an open window. And then 
there was a pause. 

“ Now,” said Eisk, “ we are going to have a 
little cinema entertainment, a scene from a 
drama of real life which I believe would interest the 
public, not to mention the police.” 

As he spoke the door from the dweUing-house 
was opened a few inches, silently, unobserved. 

“ Go ahead,” said Eisk. 

What followed was, as the perpetrator would 
have been first to admit, a piece of barefaced 
“ fake.” Yet its one glaring divergence from 
fact and its several minor discrepancies could not 
neutralize the main dire truth of the story. As a 
film it had been a costly and difficult piece of 
work ; as a spectacle it would have impressed 


266 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


any audience. The only question Eisk asked 
himself now was : Would it attain the single 
object to which it had been devoted ? 

The screen was again illuminated, but not 
brightly. Corrie, sweating with apprehension, 
gazed in a sort of fascination at the outside of 
his own home. Soon he saw a muffled figure 
which he could scarce have denied as his own, so 
familiar it was, even to the slight limp of the left 
leg, emerge and steal down the lonely road, with 
fugitive glances here and there. It vanished and 
immediately there appeared a shanty that might 
have been the postman’s. Towards it came the 
muffled figure. It passed behind the shanty. A 
strangled sound came from Corrie’s throat as he 
tried to scream, “ I didna ! ” The familiar 
figure came back, went to the door and . . . 
Corrie shut his eyes. But he could not keep them 
so. When he looked again the shanty was- blazing 
at the rear. Suddenly, the door was torn inwards 
and Sam, the postman, or his double, dropped a 
hatchet and staggered forth in agony. He reeled 
across the road, fell on the grass and lay heaving. 
Then into the picture crept the muffled figure, 
raised a bludgeon and smote once, twice ; knelt, 
lingered, and rose with a letter in its hand. Then 
all movement ceased for, perhaps, ten seconds. 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


267 


And then, as by an invisible hand, the black 
muffler was snatched away, and there was the face 
of John Corrie, and no other, a mask of guilty 
terror. 

The prisoner, breaking from West’s detain- 
ing hold, pitched forward to the floor, and 
grovelled. 

“ What are ye doing to my brother ? ” The 
harsh voice of a woman startled them aU. 

Gaunt, ghostly, Eachel Corrie strode forward 
and halted beside the miserable creature whom she 
loved. 

“ Pack o’ lies ! ” she cried. “ It was me that 
set Are to the house ; it was me that stole the 
Zeniths, and sold them to Symington ; but I’ve 
got them back, aU but one certificate. Ye 
cowards ! what mean ye by treating an old 
man — She broke off, feU on her knees and 
whispered : “ John, it’s all right. Ye’re safe, 
dearie, quite safe.” 

Eisk, who had sent the wondering mechanics 
outside, turned the key and came over to the 
group. He stooped and unlocked the handcuffs, 
unfastened the gag. 

“ Miss Corrie,” he said gently, “ I’m sorry you 
have suffered this, but it was vital that we should 
get at the truth.” He signed to West, and 


268 


KITTY OABSTAIES 


between them they lifted Corrie to the chair. 
He was not unconscious, but stupefied. 

The woman got to her feet and began to chafe 
her brother’s hands. 

“ Listen,” she said in a low voice, “ promise- 
swear — that he’ll never be troubled again, and 
I’ll put in your hands the nme certificates ” 

“I’m afraid we want even more than that. 
Miss Corrie,” said Eisk. 

“ What do ye want ? Money for the other ? 
WeU ” 

“ A full account of your brother’s bargains with 
Symington.” 

“ I can give ye that, too — ^if ye promise.” 

“ And we must know at once where your niece 
is — where Symington has hidden her.” 

“ God ! ” Eachel’s jaw dropped. “ Hidden 
her ? ” she gasped after a moment. Suddenly 
she shook her brother, not harshly. “ John, 
what’s this they’re saying ? Kitty hid away by 
Symington ! Speak, man ! — oh, but surely ye 
ken nothing about such a black busiuess ! . . . 
Yet speak, John ! Where’s Kitty ? ” 

“ To save yourself from penal servitude, Corrie,” 
said Eisk solemnly, “ tell me where she is.” 

Corrie groaned and hopelessly answered — 

“ Before God, I dinna ken.” 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


269 


Eisk and West looked at each other. For once, 
at least, the man had told the truth. They could 
not doubt it. And so the great effort had ended 
in failure. 

There was a grievous silence. At last West 
spoke. 

“ I suppose. Miss Corrie, you never heard of 
Symington having another address than White 
Farm — of late, I mean.” 

Eachel started. “ Wait ! ” she exclaimed. 
“ Can I trust ye no to hurt him ? ” 

They assured her, and she ran unsteadily into 
the dwelling-house. During her absence Corrie 
made one remark. It was characteristic. 

“ The mill was na insmed. I’m completely 
ruined.” 

Eachel returned. “ See ! ” She handed him 
the folded paper she had inadvertently taken 
from Symington’s strong box. “ And take the 
Zeniths,” she added. “ Oh, the curse they’ve 
brought to this house.” 

At the lamp Eisk examined the document. 
Drawing a quick breath, he said : “ Miss Corrie, 
this is our last hope ; we must act on it without 
delay. As for the shares, you will kindly keep 
them tiU I send you a certificate to take the place 
of the missing one, and then you and your brother 

s 


270 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


can deliver the lot, in whatever way you choose, 
to Miss Carstairs.” 

“ Ye would trust us ! ” gasped the woman. 

Eisk just glanced at the abject Corrie. “ I 
believe it is what Miss Carstairs would do herself,” 
he said, and added, with a famt smile : “ I’ve got 
a good sister, too. Well, you shan’t be further 
disturbed. Those things ” — he indicated the screen 
and apparatus — “ can be put aside, and I’ll have 
them taken away later on. Come, West. There’s 
not a moment to lose.” 

They entered the car and, twenty minutes later, 
the special train waiting for them at Kenny 
Junction. And as they were whirled South, 
somewhere in Yorkshire, a great train roared past 
bearing the sleeping Symington to the rudest 
awakening of his hfe. He had laid himself down 
in his berth, stiU savage with chagrin at his blunder 
in bringing his two prisoners face to face before 
they were sufficiently subdued, yet confident as 
ever of ultimate ■ victory. Poor little Kitty ! 
Plucky though she was, she was bound to give 
in once hunger and distress got the upper hand. 

Symington, however, had made a second 
blunder, though he remained ignorant of it. He 
had left Kitty with a new horror to brood on and 
had thereby rendered her so much more desperate 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


271 


and helpless ; but he had left her, also, a straw, 
so Jp speak, on the flood of her despair. Her 
inmligence did not perceive it at once ; hours 
had passed and her spirit was wellnigh exhausted 
when it drifted into her ken. She clutched it 
because there was nothing else to lay hold on. 
Would it serve at all ? Was the situation altered 
by the fact that her persecutor was going away — 
nay, he must have gone three hours ago ! — for the 
night ? 

Suddenly she sprang from the couch. Danger ? 
What danger would she not dare in order to help — 
to save — Colin ? Her mind was still very clear. 
She thought quickly. Then acted. 

She switched off the lights, groped her way 
behind the curtain to the bed, and lay down. 
On the wall, convenient to her hand, was a bell- 
button. She gave it a long pressure, then waited 
— ^in vain. Again she rang ; again and yet again. 
At the end of ten minutes she began to fear for 
her scheme, but just then she heard shuffling steps 
in the passage. The bolt was drawn, the door 
opened, and a voice demanded crossly to know 
what she wanted at two in the morning. 

Kitty groaned and cried : “ Oh, I can’t bear 
it any longer. Please bring some food — ^bread, 
water — anything. I’m too weak to get up.” 


272 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


“ AU right,” was the sulky reply, “ but you 
might have taken it when it was there for you-” 
At the re-bolting of the door Kitty got up. 
Presently she was leaning against the wall just 
behind the door. She trembled aU over ; her 
heart thumped ; she feared she was going to faint. 
Would the woman never return ? 

At last she came, threw open the door, and 
stiU drowsy and grumbling, proceeded with an 
untidy tray in the direction of the bed. She was 
at the curtain when Kitty darted from her corner 
and out into the passage. Bang went the door, 
home went the trusty bolt ! 

A single light glowed in the passage. Without 
pause Kitty ran next door, shot the bolt, to the 
next again, and treated it likewise. From withia 
a man’s voice called sleepily : “ What’s up ? ” 
Then she had to take the support of the wall, her 
hand to her heart— but not for long. The trapped 
woman began a noisy protest. Kitty went back 
and said as firmly as she could — 

“ If you make another sound, I swear you’ll get 
no mercy later. The man’s bolted in too.” 

“ You can’t get out of the basement,” bawled 
the prisoner. “ The stair-door’s locked, and he 
took the key with him.” 

“ Very well. Our friends will be here in the 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


273 


morning, ”, Kitty retorted brazenly, “ and I don’t 
tbink you’ll ever see your master again, unless 
in the police court.” 

The woman began to wbiue. 

“ Hold your tongue,” said Kitty, and left her. 

She ran to the place where she bad seen Cobn. 
Through the bars she beheld him huddled on the 
sofa. -A large earthenware jug lay smashed in a 
pool on the floor. 

With her heart overflowing, her eyes half bhnd 
with tears, she tore back the bolt. He did not 
move at her entrance, not even when she fell on 
her knees beside him. 

“ Oh, Colin, Colin ! 

His hands feU from his white, pinched face and 
tired eyes. He regarded her m a vague fashion. 

“ Kitty,” he said dreamily, “ by any beautiful 
chance, did you mean what you said about your 
Hps ? ” 

And then it seemed the most natmal thing in 
the world that they should be in each other’s arms. 

“ There must be a kitchen and larder some- 
where. Are you able to come and look, Colin ? ” 

They were both pretty shaky, but they went 
exploring along that stone passage hke lovers in a 
sequestered country lane. 


274 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


They discovered a comfortable kitchen, with 
two basket easy chairs, and a well-stocked larder. 

“ We must eat awfully httle to begin with,” 
said the wise Kitty. “ And you must sit in that 
nice chair till I prepare it.” 

They partook cautiously of some very hght 
dainties, and sipped a little wine and water ; and 
then Cohn felt equal to a wash-up ; and then 
they made love ; and then Cohn went along to 
give the man, who was inclined to be boisterous, 
a word of warning ; and then they made more 
love, and talked a httle sense as well ; but the 
sense made them very sleepy and for a space they 
forgot even each other ; and when Cohn woke 
up he beheld Kitty preparing something for 
breakfast ; and it was such a dehcious sight to 
behold her with her sleeves rohed up that he was 
almost angry when Eisk and West, having forced 
a silent entrance to the house, smashed their way 
down to the basement. 

Later, safely at Hilda’s flat, Kitty would have 
thanked Eisk, but he stopped her almost at the 
first word. 

“ No, Miss Carstairs,” he said, with a rueful 
smile, “ I have found out that I’m not clever. 
I thought I was till I met your aunt. I have to 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


276 


thank her for saving me from a bitter failure. 
I believe she will yet save her unhappy brother. 
And,” he paused for a moment, “ I think we may 
leave Mr. Symington to receive his punishment 
from her — unless you would prefer ” 

“ Oh, let him go,” she cried with a shudder. 
“ I hope I may never see him, or Dimford, again. 
... I want to ask you a question, Mr. Eisk. 
Do I — do I owe you a hundred pounds ? ” 

“ Alas, no,” he answered meaningly ; “ I’m 
not the lucky man.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Hilda, “ I was sure of it all the 
time ! ” 

“ Cohn ! ” exclaimed Kitty before she could 
prevent it, and blushed adorably. 

Cohn turned inquiringly from his talk with 
West. “ Yes, dearest,” he said quite naturally, 
and then blushed also. 

There was an interesting silence till the young 
man stammered : “ By the way, hasn’t Kitty 
told you we were engaged ? ” 

“ WeU,” remarked Hilda, when the congratula- 
tions were over, “ I must say I never thought of 
Mr. Symington as a match-maker ! ” 


CHAPTEE XXVII 


I T would seem that Eachel Corrie had forgotten 
her own weakness in her brother’s coUapse. 
He had risen as usual, but it was evident that he 
was totally unfit for the business of the day. 
Orouehed in his chair by the kitchen fire he pre- 
sented a sad spectacle of human misery and shame. 
It was after nine, and Eachel was endeavouring 
to persuade him to eat some breakfast. 

With scarcely any warning Symington, coming 
from the shop, was upon them. His face was 
hke chalk, his eyes were congested. 

“ Corrie,” he cried hoarsely, “ I give you three 
minutes to produce my Zerdth certificates ! ” 
Corrie seemed to shrink — that was aU. 

Eachel placed herself in front of him. 

“Mr. Symmgton,” she said steadily, “I took 
them, and ye can just make up your mind never 
to see them again.” 

Just for an instant he seemed baulked. Then 
276 


KITTY OAESTAIES 


277 


he said viciously : “ Hand them over, Or see 
your brother go to jail ! ” 

“ Eor what ? ’Twas me that fired the post- 
man’s house, but that’s aU settled. Ahythiug 
else ? ” 

He glared at her, uncertaiu how to proceed. 

She did not wait for him. “ Mr. Symington, 
two gentlemen were here- last night, and I sent 
them to a house at Eichmond, Surrey ” 

“ What ? ” . . . Devil, you’ve ruined me ! ” 
He fairly staggered. He did not ask how she had 
learned about the house. 

“ They’U be there by now, I should say,” she 
went on unemotionally. “ A dirty business, Mr. 
Symington. If I were you, I would make haste 
to quit this country. You’re a done man.” 

“ Corrie,” he shouted, “ you’re responsible ! 
You sold me the shares. Find me the certificates 
at once, or by ” 

“ Dinna tell aU the neighbours about it,” 
Eachel said quietly. “ I’m responsible. Do what 
ye like wi’ me. But mind ye broke your part 
o’ the bargain by seUing some o’ the shares 
secretly ” 

“ You fool, that was no legal bargain ! But 
the law will recognize your brother’s receipt 
for ” 


278 


KITTY CASSTAIES 


“ Gang to the law ! . . . Man, I can fancy 
ye sweating at the sight o’ a policeman ! ” 

He looked death at her then, yet he must still 
use guile rather than force. Suddenly he spoke. 

“ Look here ! I’U make terms with you. I’ll 
give you a — a third.” 

“ I’ll keep what I’ve got — for Kitty. So 
that’s the end, and ye can just get out o’ this and 
leave me to give John his breakfast.” 

With a snarl he sprang, thrust her aside, and 
reached the side of Corrie’s armchair ; Corrie leapt, 
sank back and became rigid, the muzzle of a re- 
volver against his temple. 

“ Get me the Zeniths ! ” 

Eachel’s countenance was grey. At last she 
wet her Ups, and said almost inaudibly — 

“ I’U fetch them.” She turned to go. 

“ Ko,” whispered the voice of John Corrie. 
“ Let him shoot. Ye’U keep your honour, and 
he’U be a murderer. I’m no caring.” 

In the silence steps were heard approaching. 
The voice of a girl caUed : “ Is Mr. Symington 
there ? A wire has come for him.” 

Symington went to the door and took the 
orange envelope. Then closing the door and 
putting his back to it — the revolver stUl in his 
hand — he opened the message. As he read he 


KITTY CAESTAIES • 


279 


seemed to forget the presenee of others. His face 
took on a bleak, sickly aspect. 

This was the message — 

“ At Anchor Line Office, Glasgow, fifty pounds 
and ticket await Mr. Granton. One hour after 
dispatch of this, instructions will be sent local 
Ijolice. Bearer Zeniths are now subject to scru- 
tiny at Company’s London office before they can 
be negotiated. John Risk, Duector.” 

He read it thrice, and during the third reading 
he slipped, as if unconsciously, the revolver into 
his pocket. For a brief space he stood motion- 
less, bowed as if in thought. 

All at once he tmmed, opened the door, threw 
up his head, squared his shoulders, and went out. 

Dunford saw him no more. 

John Corrie still carries on business there. 
His sister’s money, which turned out to be twice 
as much as he thought, saved the situation. The 
only noticeable change in the man is his open 
respect for her. She writes to Kitty a stiff letter 
twice a year. 

Sam, the postman, refused a new house, but 
accepted from Risk a “ soft job ” in London. 


280 


KITTY CAESTAIES 


On a night, six months after Symington’s 
disappearance, onr five Mends occupied a box at 
the Planet. The occasion was the 150th perform- 
ance of the play, which was going as strong as 
ever. Anthony West had ceased to grumble at 
having to accept a fat cheque every Wednesday. 
Kitty did not know what to do with aU her money, 
but, as Eisk assured her, she had still time to 
think about it. Her marriage day was fixed for 
a month thence. 

The curtain fell on the last act. 

“ Don’t wait for me,” said Eisk. “ I’m going 
down in a minute to have a word with Craven. 
I may look you up later, Hilda,” he added with a 
more than usual affectionate glance at his sister. 

That afternoon West had called upon him, and 
made a confession concerning Hilda. 

With leisurely haste the four lovers left the 
box. Hone of them had protested at the idea 
of not waiting for Eisk. 

He gazed after them, smiling whimsically, 
possibly a little sadly. 

“ And so,” he murmured, “ the poor dog got 
none.” 


Printed for Eobbbt Scott, P ttJlM^«f,PATEiiKOSTEK Eow,Loni)0»,E.C.,&^/ Eutlbr & Tanneb^ Feoub 





